


Code Of Thundera

by Knave_Iespyk



Series: Lunar Cycle Series [6]
Category: Thundercats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-06
Updated: 2010-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 42,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knave_Iespyk/pseuds/Knave_Iespyk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Code Of Thundera<br/>It is not just the Thundercats who live by the code of Thundera.  Knave's honour is tested when he is sent by the Lunataks to live with the Thundercats in hopes of uniting their two peoples.  Lura finds truth and loyalty questioned when she struggles between her master and the man she loves, while Zanaya learns the meaning of the word 'justice.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Truth, Justice, Honour and Loyalty by Jonathan J. Prideaux  
Chapter 1

The city of New Lunis lay on the edge of a cliff, near the Fire Rock Mountains on the little planet known as Third Earth. The city had been founded, largely through legal means, by the Lunataks, denizens of the Moons of Plundarr. The city was new, scarcely four months old, but the work was moving along at a reasonable pace. Old spaceships, including the fortress known as Sky Tomb, were put to use as homes, offices, shops, and other facilities. Surrounding the city, were the defences. Walls had been built and turrets installed. The Lunataks were not a peaceful people, despite the exceptions to the rule, and the region had known conflict a scant two months after its founding.

Luna, queen of the Lunataks, had appointed Tycho, next in line to the throne, to establish the city until such time as a more suitable replacement could be found. He had done well, bridging the gaps between his people and the Thunderians who inhabited the planet. Together they had managed to vanquish Mumm-Ra the ever living.

Unfortunately Tycho's successor, his old rival Aristarchus, had managed to undo the work. Relations with the Thundercats deteriorated, and eventually dissolved into war. Cat's Lair was badly damaged, and the Cats retaliated. They massed the people of Third Earth against the Lunataks, intent on driving them from the surface, even as Control intervened. The Interplanetary Control Force watched, horrified, as Aristarchus' lust for power and fragile psyche drove him to sentence Mandora to death, burned alive at the stake. Only an internal revolt had saved her life.

With Aristarchus in custody, the Thundercats and their allies had retreated back to their homes, or what was left of them, and Tycho found himself governor again. It was, he reflected, nice to be back. All he wanted out of life was to live quietly with Darius, a changeling who acted as his guardian and closest friend, but he'd never trusted Aristarchus with the role he'd been given, a role he was sure Luna had given him to spur Tycho into accepting that he was the best candidate for the position.

It was growing dark in this corner of Third Earth, and he watched from his little bedroom window in Sky Tomb as a family of Darklings rushed to their home. The child stumbled and the mother fussed over him. A warm feeling came over him, watching the interaction.

All races were, at their core, the same. He wished the Thunderians could see that. They felt love and anger, they raised families, they mourned the dead. The Lunataks might be more violent, but they were fighting for what they believed in. They believed that they were the superior people and everyone should bow to their wills. Were the Thundercats that much different? They forced others to hear their philosophy, they appointed themselves law enforcers and ruled through peace and friendship, they took a different route than the Lunataks.

Men like Aristarchus would never understand that kind of attitude. The man with the biggest gun should rule. Diplomacy won many more conflicts, Tycho felt, and he was feeling hard pressed in getting his countrymen to see it that way. He watched the Darklings continue on their way and turned back to the bed, where Darius lay reclined, his green leathery skin shining in the pale light. "A rare quiet night," his companion murmured, seeing his ward approach. Documents were scattered in front of him. Reports on various building projects, and the latest news from the Moons.

"It's refreshing," Tycho agreed, sitting on the edge of the bed. He'd often wondered what he would do without Darius. When all the world was a storm of chaos, Darius was there, a beacon of calm in the heart of it all. He was always there to listen, to say the right thing, or just cradle him in his darkest hours. But he did so much more behind the scenes, organizing his day, ensuring everything was safe, and handling all those picky details that would just bog him down. And he didn't ask for anything in return save the love of his partner.

Darius' wings twitched and Tycho caught a gleam of something mischievous in his eye. "It won't last. We should enjoy it while we can."

He arched an eyebrow. "Oh really, what did you have in mind?"

"Come here and find out."

* * *

The halls of Sky Tomb were quiet, several hours later, as a set of feet padded quietly down them. All the important persons, Tycho's council mostly, had been assigned rooms here. Getting into Sky Tomb had been tricky, admittedly, but not impossible. Knave's grandmother, Chilla, lived here and it wasn't implausible that he would need to speak to her. That wasn't why he was there, because he had other family he needed to see.

He knew the consequences of his actions would be severe, but he didn't care. Almost a year ago now he and a Psion woman named Zanaya had become intimate, through mutual manipulation. She had been interested in the secrets he knew, he was interested her body. Their initial coupling had been about possessing her through sheer force, but he had fallen in love with her. That lasted until she had what she wanted and bluntly told him what she really thought of him. That would have been the end of one of their lives if it wasn't for one little fact. The product of their union, a baby girl named Krystalin that she was keeping from him. That would change after tonight.

Knave walked with the confidence of one who is supposed to be there, scowling at anyone he met along the way. It only enhanced his reputation and their disgust. He was half Cheetah, his father having kept a number of Thunderian women captive for his pleasure. He didn't care, or tried not to. All his life he had been taught that Thunderians were weak, and he had tried to suppress that side. It crept out once in a while, but he tried to stifle it.

That Thunderian side wouldn't be at this door, he thought with a smile. It was unlocked, surprisingly, but he chose not to question it. It was simply good fortune, sloppiness on her part, or a mixture of both. Zanaya shared her home with her uncle, the high priest Mystan, and his acolyte Lura. A quick look around, his eyes adjusting to the thin light, showed that their home was like many in Sky Tomb. A central room with two bedrooms on either side. Mystan would be in one, no doubt, Zanaya in the other. Lura would probably sleep in the central room on the couch until a proper residence was constructed for her elsewhere.

He heard faint snoring coming from the couch, and saw that his guess was right. Lura slept, back towards him with a thin blanket covering her. He walked soundlessly to the room Zanaya was hopefully using and slid the door open. The bed was empty, and his heart leapt for a moment. Where was she? It was certainly her room, he recognized the scent. Once, that scent had thrilled him, stirred him in ways that only a fresh kill could arouse. There was another faint smell in the room. His child. He'd yet to see her in the three months since she'd been born, and now she would be coming home with him. Cautiously he walked to the cradle and peered down at the bundle inside. Pale blue skin like his own, and a smattering of white hair. She was beautiful. For all the heart aches and difficulties he'd been through, this almost made it worthwhile. He started to reach in but felt every muscle stop.

"I figured it was only a matter of time," a disembodied voice spoke directly into his brain. Reluctantly he felt himself turning around and walking back into the central room. The light turned on and he saw Lura rubbing her eyes on the couch, and Mystan himself in the door to his room. He hated Psions. They fought with their minds instead of their fists, it wasn't a fair battle. "I knew some day soon you would come for her. I have been lenient, Knave of House Iespyk. I wanted you dead, but Lura delayed my hand. Then you saved my life and so I was merciful. I had hoped that you would get the message, but apparently a further demonstration is in order. Lura?"

The young woman looked over at her master and then at Knave. She understood what she had to do and walked over to him. Knave sensed a reluctance in her walk, a faint whiff of shame in the air. "I'm sorry," she said, touching his head. His Cheetah heritage provided a slight resistence to mental probing, but Lura was very good. In seconds his feeble defences were shattered and she was inside.

* * *

The scenery was the same but something was different. Knave knew, on some level, that none of this was real. Even still, it didn't change the feeling of helplessness as he rose off the floor, nor the pain arcing through him as he slammed into the ceiling with incredible force. "Mystan is the greatest telekinetic alive," Lura's voice said. He couldn't see either the woman or her master, but that made sense given this was all in his head. He jerked into the air and hit the ceiling again. "He has many ways to kill you." He was propelled through the window and rose swiftly through the atmosphere where he was left to survey the terrain. His mental self dropped again, hurtling at speeds faster than any ship he'd been in towards the ground, landing with a sick sounding smack. Every bone felt broken, and he knew that if this had been real that he would be dead.

"But there are other options." Knave was whole again, standing over a surface that showed no signs of his impact. Suddenly his chest throbbed, his lungs stopped moving and he struggled for breath, clawing at his chest and throat for air. Just when he thought he could bear no more the grip released. Shifted was more appropriate. His heart then began to ache. "Perhaps this is more ironic, given the nature of your relationship with Zanaya." There was a lengthy pause, the nature of which he didn't know, but it was a temporary blessing. The phantom hand gripped his groin, wrenching on his penis painfully, twisting and removing the organ with an awful tearing sound. He cried out and clutched at the vacant space.

As before, the pain vanished. He then realized he was rising through the air, the ground beneath him shifting on its own, depositing him back in Mystan's room. He scowled, hating Psions more for this, and cursing himself for having slept with one in the first place. "There's one more, that Mystan enjoys. It takes blame off him." Knave pondered the words, and watched in horrid fascination as his hand picked up his icepick from its holster, the tip pressed against his chest. Suddenly his hand plunged the weapon, burying it deep, causing his blood to flow freely from the gaping wound.

* * *

Mystan watched impassively as Lura did her work, following his instructions. He could see the pain etched on the hybrid's face, and didn't feel sympathy. Knave had brought this on himself. He saw Lura release her hold, and the hybrid sagged to his knees. "You see, you are alive because I allow it. Make any such attempt again and it will be your last act on this planet. Do you understand?" he crouched so that he was at eye level.

"I understand fully. I will have to kill you first," Knave snarled, panting for breath. The attack didn't come, not immediately, nor would it. Lura's invasion of his mind had taken a lot out of him. The pain he'd experienced had been real to a point, and there had been instances where people had died in there. Lura was good though, she'd known just how much pressure to put on, how much to allow the brain to transmit. Perhaps she'd played it cautiously, he'd certainly noticed her going a little easy on him. That would wait. Knave would not.

"You've been warned," was all he said, gesturing for Knave to leave. He slunk out of the room like an animal with its tail between its legs. Mystan turned to his pupil. "Where's Zanaya?"

A moment, as Lura closed her eyes, seeking. It was a particular talent that he'd never mastered. "She's in the streets, practising."

* * *

There was little to do for an assassin here on Third Earth, Zanaya thought to herself. More than once she had considered returning to the Psion Moon, but she still had one piece of unfinished business. One former bedmate to eliminate. She prowled the streets in her blacks, keeping to the shadows, tailing pedestrians and visualizing how she would kill them if she were so inclined. She hadn't had the chance to fight much, other than light sparring sessions, which was something she intended to remedy.

On the positive side, she wasn't weighed down with her wretched child at present, and could easily workout. Governor Tycho had even insisted that she take the time to recuperate, so she hadn't been assigned to difficult work. That was a mixed blessing, in all fairness. She hated being indoors all day, having Krystalin latched to her chest like some kind of parasite, draining her bodily fluids.

And Lunis seemed to be taking it easy on her, now that the strenuous pregnancy was over. Zanaya had angered the goddess of the Icewalkers by killing one of her champions, and the child had been payback. Zanaya had named the baby after the target in a fit of irony, as the baby looked far more like an Icewalker than any Psion she'd ever met. But Lunis had sworn that the child would make her life miserable, and she had been right up until delivery.

A thick Graviton she'd been walking behind stopped suddenly, turning around taking a lengthy look at her chest. "Hey baby, want to see my other gravity carbine?" he asked.

She started with a death glare as she considered rejecting him, but it had been far too long since she'd killed. Her features softened and she patted the weapon slung over his shoulder. "If it's anything like the size of this one, I'd love to." She took his arm and followed him to his home. He would be discovered in the morning when he failed to report for duty. No trace of her would ever be found.

* * *

Slinking into his father's home, a place he was forced to share with the man who had despised him, Knave went to his room tired and sore. The light was on down the hall, indicating that Nitro was still awake, probably playing with one of his women. Knave knew, by all rights, he should speak with his father, explain what had happened. Nitro was just traditional enough to consider an attack on one to be an attack on the entire family, but that would mean asking that man for help, and Knave refused to do it. Some day soon, he would get his own revenge on Mystan.

* * *

"You hesitated," Mystan noted. Lura had finished her report on Zanaya's whereabouts, and he trusted his niece to handle that situation efficiently. "You need to obey me immediately in front of others. We must present a united front against the lesser races. You know that."

Her head bowed submissively. "I know. I felt sorry for him, and I shouldn't have."

"You have a soft heart, perhaps too soft. I expect better in the future. Your training period is nearly complete, and I would hate to have to send a negative report to the other elders. We will work on this in the morning," he said. She did mean well, he knew, and he wasn't so cold as people thought. But to obtain the rank he held, there could be no room for personal emotion, only the glory of the Moon. Lura was good, very good, the best telepath he'd ever worked with, and her abilities in the other disciplines was better than most. If she could master her emotions she would rise through the ranks of the priesthood.

He crossed the room and made sure the child was asleep and then retired back into his own quarters. He would deal with Lura in the morning.

* * *

Morning came, the sun's rays bathing Third Earth in the beautiful array of reds and yellows. Lion-O sat in the control room, alternating between surveying the land and just staring at the beauty outside. He couldn't remember life on Thundera very well anymore, simple things like the sunrise were a faint memory that he couldn't cling to. Sunrise, then, had meant schooling or breakfast. Ever since that fateful day when their home planet had been destroyed, Lion-O had found himself trying to enjoy the little things around him, just in case they were taken from him.

The door parted and his long time companion, Snarf, entered. They had shared a long history together, the latter's role shifting from babysitter/guardian to mentor and close companion. For all the grumbling about being treated like a child sometimes, Lion-O knew that he would be lost without old Snarf. "I brought you some breakfast," the small feline said, merrily placing a tray on the desk beside him. Delicious aromas wafted up to his nostrils and he grinned. Berbil berry pancakes slathered in maple syrup with a side of bacon. That was one thing Snarf relished doing these days, cooking up a storm for his appreciative companions.

"Thanks Snarf. I'm going to go with Panthro later to see how progress is going on the new Lair. Do you want to come along?" he asked, picking up his utensils.

"Brr... No thanks, but I'll make you two a lunch, snarf, snarf," he replied, disappearing back out into the hall. Lion-O chuckled, he could always depend on Snarf.

* * *

Breakfast was waiting for him on his desk when Tycho woke up. Two slices of bread, some jam, and a glass of juice were on the tray, along with a note that said simply "Today is not a quiet day, sorry." Next to the tray was an itinerary with a full complement of meetings. His first, disappointingly enough, was in an hour. A brief conversation with one of the building planners. Darius' elegant handwritten note indicated it was to discuss difficulties with a new sewer line being installed.

Following that was a meeting with Stalker, who was in command largely of the military forces, but also was in charge of security. There had been a murder during the night and he was to receive an update. There would be family back home to contact, one of the less pleasant aspects of his job. Lunch would be a meeting with his council, those who were available, and then even more meetings and discussions afterwards.

He dressed swiftly in the light purple outfit that Darius had laid out and buckled on his belt. He examined himself briefly in the mirror and started his day.

* * *

Knave walked into the kitchen and saw Nuiane hard at work making breakfast for the household. She was one of Nitro's girls, along with one named Gravica, serving him in any way he could conceive. It wasn't unusual for Icewalkers to have multiple partners, the added body warmth serving a purpose on the cold moon, but Nitro's tastes had always run towards the 'exotic'. The Darkling and Graviton women were only the tip of the iceberg, as he had dabbled in the past with women of many species, including Knave's own mother. Chilla had put a stop to that when she regained her position as head of the house. Lunar women only, she'd declared.

It hadn't always been that way. For Knave's early years Nitro had had an Icewalker woman, had bonded with her formally in front of the world and borne him three sons. She'd died shortly after his seventh birthday and Nitro had never bothered seeking another.

He walked up behind the Darkling and inspected what she was cooking, mildly amused when she flinched. His father was reasonable, he rewarded the people around him when they deserved it, and had earned the women of his harem's trust and even affection. But when he was angry he became vengeful; many a servant had found themselves on the receiving end of his brand of justice, the worst offenders winding up in the cooking pot.

Nuiane had betrayed him two months ago, in the middle of the escalating conflict with the Thunderians, and had nearly caused the death of Chilla, Nitro's mother. He had informed her in no uncertain terms that if Chilla died she would too. When the girl had been instrumental in saving Chilla's life, the punishment had been downgraded. She had been turned over to spend the night with his son. Knave was not a gentle lover, and she still bore a faint scar on her chest from his ministrations. "Smells good," he said, stepping back.

"It should be ready soon." He saw the tension in her hand as she diced some fruit. She was still angry at Nitro but would never harm him, she understood why Nitro had felt the need to punish her even if she didn't like it.

Which brought him back to the business with Mystan. Knave settled at the kitchen table and waited for the others to join him, still facing Nuiane in case she decided to take her frustration out on him. Obviously Mystan couldn't be tackled face to face, which was how Knave would prefer it. Psions, especially the powerful ones, could react quickly, and thought was much faster than he could move. Mystan would have to be taken by stealth, somehow, and then he could handle Zanaya.

And Lura? She hadn't quite earned herself a spot on his hit list. He'd met her twice now, and both times she seemed reluctant to do him harm. She might be a good weapon to use against her master, if he could figure out how to do it. It would be difficult, because a telepath like her would know his motives before he even got started. It bore thinking on though.

Nitro emerged from his bedroom a little later, dressed in a yellow spotted bathrobe. It, like all the clothes he wore when he wanted to needle his unwanted son, was made from the hide of Thunderian Cheetahs. Gravica joined him at the table, still stinking of sex to Knave's heightened senses. "I have some errands to run," Nitro said, calmly, "try to stay out of trouble."

"As you wish, father," Knave said, bowing his head as honour commanded. Someday, though, his dislike for the man would outweigh his duty.

* * *

To a casual observer Mystan and Lura were merely sitting across from one another with their eyes closed. The observer might notice, if they were inclined to look carefully enough, that Lura's eyes were scrunched, and that her body was a little more tense than Mystan's. "Twelve," Mystan finally said, the barest hint of triumph in his voice. Lura's shoulders slumped and she opened her eyes. "You're relying too much on blocking me. A telepath knows that there are times when deflection or distraction is more effective than a simple block. If I see a wall up I know you're hiding something and where it is. Evasion, I might not."

"Of course," she replied. He waited patiently. There was something on her mind and, while he could just go back in and find it out, it built trust in him if he didn't. "I'm distracted. It's this business with Knave. Wouldn't it be easier if he and Zanaya weren't on the same planet? Or at least the same city? I sent him away once, maybe I could try again."

"It would," Mystan answered. He stood up and stretched the kinks out of his back. He was beginning to dislike getting older, the joints and muscles seemed to protest a little louder every year. "If Knave were to return to the Ice Moon he would be out of our reach, but his father is here and his grandmother and he seems to feel his duty is with them. Hmm... I may have another idea, but it's going to require some heavy manipulation the old fashioned way. I'll discuss it when Zanaya wakes up."

* * *

Carrying a load of wood to one of the new houses, Knave had the time to think a little while venting his frustrations. As fate would have it, he had been assigned to work under a Psion today, which didn't help matters. Whirling around his head was the question of how Mystan had detected his presence. Icewalkers weren't noted for their stealth, but Knave was more than that. His Cheetah heritage had given him a lighter step, for which he was grateful, it had certainly served its purpose in the past when he was sneaking out of his father's home.

It wasn't that Nitro was cruel, far from it, but every child felt the need to spread their wings, so to speak, and that was where Nitro provided resistance. He had been assigned to the prison, run by House Iespyk of which his father was in charge of, with the goal to use his bloodthirsty desires to extract information from the accused. Knave grinned, remembering some of the nastier tricks he had used, and how often a prisoner would confess to anything when they found out who their jailer was.

He was feared in that world, even by his fellow guards. He'd made few friends in his life, and most of those were false. As for love? He saw where that had led. Love was only an abstract thing, another name for the lust for physical intimacy. Zanaya. She had betrayed him the one time he'd allowed himself to feel love. Or maybe it was himself. Maybe half-bred freaks like him were merely the means to an end. His friends had used him to further their aims, the prisoners played nice to him for extra food or less torture, and Zanaya and manipulated him for information. At least Nitro was honest in his motives. He cared little for his son, but felt honour bound to protect him as a member of the family. He still used him, but Knave could accept that because, likewise, he was honour bound to serve.

"Hey, Knave. The governor wants to see you," his job site boss called out to him. A million thoughts rushed through his head. Why would Tycho want to see him? Had Mystan reported him? Was it unrelated? Was it good or bad? He wouldn't find out the answers to his questions by standing there, so he headed for Sky Tomb.

* * *

Tycho was waiting patiently, with Darius standing nearby. In Tycho's experience, people felt better when they saw the changeling around, rather than wondering where he was and what he was disguised as, or if he was even present at all. It didn't make much difference to him, he was confident that Knave would pose little problem, especially given his sense of duty.

Icewalkers were dependable in that regard. They had a keen sense for order and liked things happening in a particular way. You could generally trust them to do as they were asked. They might question the orders, but they respected authority enough to do what they were told regardless, within limits. If they disagreed enough, and he had seen it happen, they would at least tell you where you could stick your orders. Unlike the Psions. Mystan had been in his office an hour before with the rest of the council and had raised a possibility. Tycho had never liked dealing with that man. Psions in particular had a way of talking that made you feel dirty for listening, and he suspected that Mystan had other things on his mind than the sake of the empire. But Mystan was important, high ranking and influential among the people of his moon. Wise was the ruler who kept tabs on such men.

The door opened, admitting the hybrid. He looked around with a trace of wildness in his countenance. He looked scared, which Tycho could hardly blame him for. No one liked being called before an authority figure, no matter how hard he tried to present himself as open and friendly. "You summoned me, governor?" he asked, performing a slight bow.

"I did," Tycho replied, gesturing for him to take a seat. He walked around his large desk, one he kept meaning to replace. Luna had originally put it here as a sign of her authority, but it was too big for his personal tastes. "How have you been?"

The question caught Knave off-guard, and Tycho was secretly pleased. He wanted to try and make him more comfortable, in the hopes that he might be more receptive to what was to come. "I've been fine. Why?"

"No reason at all. Curiosity mostly. I don't get to find out much about my people on a personal level, and I thought this might be an opportunity to do so."

"You called me here to see how I am?" the tone was incredulous, as though he were surprised that anyone, especially one of Tycho's rank, would care about such things. Or was it that anyone should care about him. Yes, there was something there that suggested he was still licking his wounds from the Zanaya business. Tycho had heard all about it both from Nitro and from Mystan. A proper therapist would be useful, and it almost made him change his mind.

"No. I didn't, as you've already guessed. You're having trouble fitting in here, if I may be blunt." He knew he could, as that was the way it was with Icewalkers. He could say whatever he liked, provided it wasn't too insulting; an offended Icewalker was dangerous. "A lot of people don't like half-breeds, and more still dislike the interbreeding between species. I don't agree with it, but I know it exists."

He'd have been a hypocrite to feel that way, for one thing. His relationship with Darius was common knowledge, and he'd never bothered to hide it. But even without that, he'd still feel the same. A person should not be judged by the blood in their veins, but the way of their heart. A great many hybrids existed whom he would place more trust in than the so called purebreds. Even though he had been working diligently to change that opinion, there was a movement about that opposed him, that felt that those whose bloodlines were diluted should be cleansed for the sake of the future. It disgusted him to know it, but there it was.

"I'm used to it," Knave said.

"And that's just it. You shouldn't have to be used to it. Call me an optimist, but I want all peoples to be judged fairly, and that's why I called you here. I want you to be an instrument of peace for me. I intend on speaking with Lion-O of the Thundercats, to see if he'll agree to let you be a symbol of our intent to repair the relationship between Thunderians and Lunataks, to prove that when we come together, good things can happen," he said. He was beginning to preach, as he sometimes did when he was keen on a subject.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to live with them. Teach them about our ways and learn about theirs. There's a lot of good in them, and I feel that learning about one another is important in growing together."

Knave stared at him like he had suggested tap dancing on the sun. "You want me to live with the Thundercats? After what we did?"

"After what Aristarchus did. The Thundercats like you, or that's my impression. Even Mystan says that the one named Cheetara seemed fond of you. Aristarchus created a chasm, and I want you to be my bridge." Tycho saw a mysterious look cross Knave's face at the mention of the Psion, and wondered about it. Was that the old wound or something fresh? "I realize I could order you to do it, but that's not my way. I want you to do this for you and for the empire."

"What did my father say?"

"I don't know. But your sire was at the council meeting when it came up, and she agreed that it would be good." Tycho didn't think that Chilla's exact words would go over very well. She had suggested that it would be good for him, true, but more that it would be nice not to have him around. Chilla was biassed, as were the others who had dealt with the Thundercats for years. They were part of a different generation who had only known conflict with the felines.

"What about Krystalin? I'm not leaving her behind," Knave said, assuming a stubborn stance. Tycho felt Darius tense beside him but felt comfortable enough that his bodyguard wouldn't initiate a conflict.

It was also an issue that they hadn't foreseen, and probably should have. The next words he said would be very important in getting his position across. "On the short term we can't do that. Zanaya still has to nurse her, but I see no reason that once she's been weaned we couldn't look into transferring custody to you. It's a difficult issue, but..."

Knave snarled, and for one moment Tycho was sure he would attack. His pulse began to race at the prospect of a fight. Darius would protect him, but violence would only hurt the efforts here. A bulb went off in his head. Mystan had been insistent on this project because it would get Knave away from Krystalin. He made a mental note to confront him about it later. "I want your word on it before I agree to anything," Knave finally said, forcing down his tension.

"Fair enough. I'll talk to Chilla and Mystan. See if we can't work it out. Thank you for your time." He watched the other get up and exit the room, leaving Tycho alone with Darius again. "That's going to be a mess, isn't it."

"Agreed. I'll set it up, and send out a feeler to the Thundercats. You have another meeting in ten minutes," Darius replied, moving a folder on to the front of Tycho's desk.

* * *

Every time Lion-O saw it he was amazed. Cat's Lair was near completion thanks to the tireless efforts of the Berbils after the heavy damage it had taken. He could still remember the day, vividly as though it had happened yesterday. Aristarchus, the traitor, had returned a captive Tygra to them in exchange for the Sword of Omens and repaid their trust by opening fire on the Lair. Luckily only Snarf had been inside, had his long time friend had avoided death, but that stroke of fortune didn't make up for the loss of so much. His home, many of his possessions, everything they had worked so hard for and it was gone in seconds. And why? Some perverted quest for power. It was why some men should never be put in positions of power, their eternal desire for more.

He was leader of the Thundercats, but that was merely a title draped on him like a coat. It didn't do much, the other Thundercats in some ways had just as much authority as he did, he was just a figurehead in many respects. No, he thought as he climbed out of the Thundertank, that wasn't entirely true. He had the final word on most matters within the Thundercats, it just seemed like he didn't because they were so often in agreement.

Like the Berbils. None of the Thundercats particularly liked having the Berbils do their work. It didn't seem fair for the robotic bears to do all the work while he and the others lived elsewhere. He had heard accusations that they were being employed as slave labour in exchange for protection, but the Berbils seemed offended by the concept. They enjoyed being useful, and argued that construction was something they were good at, and that it left the Thundercats free to do other work around the planet.

And so Lion-O made it a point to justify that faith, no matter how guilty he felt watching them. As they'd left, Pumyra had been gathering supplies for a medical emergency near the Wollo village and they'd dropped her off en route. He supposed it was that kind of act that made the people of Third Earth so willing to help one another. When people worked together, they could accomplish a lot.

"Hello, Lion-O and Panthro," one of the Berbils, Robear Biff said, pushing a wheelbarrow with bags of cement.

"It's looking good," Panthro replied, "probably better than last time."

"Thank you, Thundercats. We hope so." The bear continued on his way quietly and without complaint.

"Shouldn't be much longer before we can move in. Just a case of moving the furniture they salvaged back into place and hooking everything up," Panthro noted.

"Agreed. It's impressive. I just hope we never have to build it again... Just a second." Lion-O hopped back in the tank and activated the radio, some small part of him fearing the worst. "I read you Lynx-O, what is it?"

"There's a communique waiting for you from the Lunataks," the elderly feline said, as his face appearing on the tiny monitor.

"The Lunataks? What do they want?" Panthro asked, eavesdropping.

"Only one way to find out. Patch it through to here, please."

* * *

Before Tycho could meet with Lion-O or Mystan he had to make a decision he realized he had been avoiding. The question of who the rightful guardian of Krystalin should be. There were so many factors to weigh, and precedents to consider.

It would be easier if both parents were of the same race. In general, Icewalker law would dictate that the more powerful family member would be the protector. Knave's family was the highest ranking family on the Ice Moon and, technically, Zanaya's wasn't on the moon at all. Psions tended to place ownership on the mother, which swung it back to Zanaya. Mixed race children were more complicated and, unsurprisingly, tended to be given to whichever parent it was more politically advantageous for the judge or ruler to give it to. Tycho wondered which side Luna would take. Probably the Icewalkers, truthfully. Rewarding past service to Nitro, who had freed her and her cohorts from Third Earth, was the best route.

But Tycho tried not to engage in that kind of political manoeuvring, he decided that he had to consider what was best for the child. Mother or father. Living among Thunderians or Lunataks. Assassin or savage.

Neither option sounded wonderful, in truth. With Knave, Krystalin would be reared among the Thunderians for a time. People would accuse them of corrupting her with their values and taint her the same way her father was. But with Zanaya she would be with a mother who despised her, and maybe that was the answer he needed.

Tycho stepped from the desk and stared at the one picture he had of his family, hanging on the wall. A brother, his parents, and Darius. He'd grown up in a nurturing and loving environment, a constant sense of love from his family. Even now, he knew, Darius was doing some little thing for him because he loved him. Knave was many things, indeed he was a savage in many respects, but he had a great love for his daughter, determined that she should have a childhood that he had been denied. And Zanaya? She kept the babe away from him out of spite.

He didn't pretend to understand the circumstances around her birth. Zanaya had offered her body to Knave, tried to seduce him to get the information he wanted, and had been upset when he'd taken her up on it. Icewalker sex wasn't gentle, from what he'd seen and overheard. Many were the wounds that were displayed proudly. So it was bordering on rape, but not quite. Mystan's reaction would be fascinating. He'd be rid of Knave, but Knave would have the child. He made a note to have Darius present when he met him.

* * *

Tycho was right. As Mystan heard the explanation, he grew angrier. If Tycho were any other man... The thought trailed off abruptly, knowing the futility. Mystan could probably kill Tycho in about five seconds, but those seconds would be enough time for Darius to react. He could probably kill Darius too, given time, but that was less of a guarantee. Changeling physiology was unique, something about their chemistry made it impossible to get a firm grip on them with his telekinesis. Squashing him with a heavy object was possible, but again there were few guarantees. The Psion high priests had captured a few of the creatures and had experimented with various means of killing them, with little success.

"You're entrusting the care of a baby to him?" he asked slowly, regaining control of his emotions. "He'll probably eat her as a snack one day."

"That's your best argument?" Tycho replied, glancing sideways at Darius.

"Aristarchus was a mad man and I am beginning to suspect you are as well. Knave is an unworthy choice as 'parent' of my niece's child. Especially since you place on turning him loose in Cat's Lair. She will make the perfect spy for the Thundercats when they finally decide to turn against us. They haven't forgotten what your predecessor did."

"And I see this as a sign of trust between us and them. What does it say about us if we're scared to let them see our children? The Thundercats will respect Knave's privacy and only help where needed," Darius said smoothly.

"You are weak, Tycho. I will make note of this in my report to Luna. I would watch out for Zanaya when she finds out, I won't protect you from her again." Mystan stalked out, the door hissing shut behind him. His niece had killed many before, and with more difficult odds. He had a suspicion that there would be a vacancy in the governor's seat soon enough.

* * *

An hour or so later, a common housefly would wind its way through the corridors of Sky Tomb before landing across the hall from Mystan's room. After a quick check around for spiders or other predators, it settled down and watched.

* * *

Lion-O steepled his fingers, sitting alone in the conference room in Cat's Lair. Though work was still going on, Berbils cheerfully mending walls and hooking up wires, he ignored it all and considered the Lunataks question. Lion-O wondered about Tycho. He seemed almost Thunderian in personality and he might have called him friend were it not for the hatred between their peoples. In fact, Tycho was probably the only Lunatak who wouldn't be offended at the comparison.

It was every Thunderian's dream, with rare exceptions, to have peace, it was what they strived for. It was as much a part of them as the code of Thundera, or even an arm. No matter how often they were burned, he always felt the need to reach out to the flame of peace, but that didn't mean he couldn't be sensible about it.

A transfer of knowledge, education, and first hand information; it was all so tempting, but were there motives, what would it cost? Lion-O had trusted people before, and knew that everyone was capable of deceit. Was Tycho setting them up for something? Sneak someone into the Lair and sabotage them from there? Certainly the candidate for such a transfer sweetened the deal considerably. From the moment Lion-O had seen Knave, he had yearned to help him discover his other side.

A trio of Berbils walked by the room, singing some kind of song whose words he couldn't make out. He stared again out the window remembering his own treatment at the hands of the Lunataks. The abuse. The mental torture. The loss of his home and valued possessions. Almost the loss of his friends.

"And imagine how Knave and his mother were treated," a voice in his head noted. That was also true. Thunderians weren't liked, and Lunataks didn't keep such opinions to themselves. Knave's life would have been full of ridicule and torment. His mother had been captured and raped, the hybrid had told Cheetara in a vulnerable moment, and he had been forced to kill her. His heart ached thinking of it.

It was settled then. The conversation with Tycho had been recorded, and he would play it back for the others. There would be objections, if Panthro's reaction was an indicator, but they would discuss things properly. Conditions would have to be set, a constant watch until they'd gauged his honour at the very least, and restrictions placed on where he could go. Lion-O thought it would probably happen, it was all a question of when.

* * *

A thick silence hung over the room. Lion-O looked around the table, wondering to himself who would speak first. They had gathered again at the Tower of Omens, assorted errands completed, and he had played the audio track. It was Panthro, unsurprisingly, who took the initiative. He had been vocal on the ride back to base, and seemed offended that they were even considering the possibility. "As I told Lion-O, it's a trap. Those blasted Lunataks can't be trusted for a second. We let him in, we might as well cut our throats, save them the trouble."

"It's tough to say," Tygra said, slowly. It was Tygra who had spent the most time recently in the clutches of the Lunataks, and had been traded temporarily for the Sword of Omens. He didn't talk about what had happened, though Lion-O got the impression it was more psychological than anything. "I think it's difficult to compare Tycho with Aristarchus or even Luna. Aristarchus' own people considered him mad, remember, and Tycho seems to genuinely want friendship."

"For now," Pumyra's voice surprised Lion-O. Seeing everyone looking at her, she shyly continued. "We've all seen what the Lunataks are capable of. Tycho might be the exception to the rule, but what happens when Luna countermands his orders?"

"And yet, can we turn away a countryman? Knave did not choose to be born on the Moons of Plundarr. He is still one of us," Lynx-O, eldest of the Thundercats, said.

"Or is he one of them? He threatened to eat me," Wily Kat said, violently hitting the table with the palm of his hand. The resounding noise hung in the air, while his sister tried to calm him.

The Lord of the Thundercats listened patiently as the conversation went around the table, both for and against the bargain. Cheetara seemed to be the strongest supporter, which didn't surprise him. Before the attack on Cat's Lair she and Knave had been speaking on occasion and she had gotten close to him. It was one of the reasons that Lion-O had hope. Cheetara reminded Knave of his mother and he seemed willing to open up a bit about his past. There were deep wounds, she explained, but he possessed some of the Thunderian spirit. Lynx-O, Bengali and Tygra seemed to be in agreement with her, each for their own reasons, leaving the twins, Panthro and Pumyra opposed.

Four on four wasn't his preference. If the Thundercats could be united it made his decision making easier. Seeing that they were going around in circles he cleared his throat. "We'll come back to that later. I'll sleep on it and make a decision in the morning. Right now, let's hypothetically say he does stay with us. What are the terms? Conversely, if he doesn't, then we need to anticipate how the Lunataks will react."

* * *

 

The dialogue in Mystan's room was far less friendly. Mystan had explained Tycho's stance to Zanaya and the latter had let loose a string of words whose meaning Lura didn't want to know. This was largely a family dispute, so Lura concentrated on her studies, poring over a book of rites. Her apprenticeship to Mystan would be over soon, and she would be expected to carry on in the greater work depending on the god's will. It was hard not to listen in on the conversation, mostly because Zanaya was yelling, so she eventually closed the book and stopped pretending to read.

She was still in the room for one more reason. Zanaya was Mystan's niece, but there was no guarantee that she wouldn't attack him. A light brushing of the woman's mind showed that such an impulse was there, held tightly in check.

"He does have a point. You've shown no desire to keep the child," Mystan said calmly. Lura didn't need to read his mind to sense the tension there. He had confidence that his relationship and his superior rank would protect him, but there was still a trace of doubt. Especially since he was saying something that was designed to provoke her.

"I don't, and I'd kill the brat if I didn't think there would be consequences, but I'll be doubly damned if I let Knave get his hands on her," she growled. Zanaya shoved a chair out of her way as she paced the room. Dimly she could hear Krystalin crying. "More bother than she's worth."

Quietly, Lura went into the next room and collected the child in her arms. A baby's thoughts weren't terribly organized, and they had zero defences against a telepath of even moderate skill. Lura read vague thoughts of hunger and fear, a desire for her mother to protect and feed her.

She carefully produced a bottle of milk and settled back down on the couch. The child's thoughts calmed a little, but she was still scared. She recognized Lura as a friend but knew she was not mommy. "We have very few options. Tycho thinks that she belongs to Knave and we will have to give her up soon. Unless the hierarchy changes in our favour, we aren't able to do anything. Maybe we could appeal to Luna," Mystan said. He hadn't moved from where he stood, but he was watching everything.

"Maybe." Zanaya's expression changed, growing darker as a grin spread across her face. Just the sight of it caused Lura to shudder, and started Krystalin crying again. "There's another option. Tycho thinks Knave is the best option, but what if something should happen to him. I've been wanting him dead for a while now anyway."

"That would work too. You'd be the primary suspect, so make sure no one sees you."

"In that case, don't use the front door," Lura said, squirming as the attention was turned to her. "I think Darius is out in the hall. I was practising earlier and one of the flies outside resisted my attempt. I don't think he noticed."

* * *

The bar Knave had chosen was unusually quiet tonight, which suited him fine. Finding a table when it was full was a pain, mostly because no one really wanted to sit with one of his kind. There were a total of three half-breeds in the city of New Lunis at present, himself, a Psi-Royal cross, and his daughter. The thought of having her brought a smile to his lips. He had tried many times to take her, and now he was going to be given her, through political means. It had never occurred to him to try diplomacy, it wasn't his thing, but it seemed to have worked.

Krystalin, a strange name for a Psion to give a child, but her appearance definitely favoured her paternal grandfather. Knave wondered about that. Zanaya had told him a few details about how she'd gotten pregnant and he wasn't sure how much to believe. He'd had his hands ready to kill, her betrayal revealed, and a desperate person would say anything to save their hides. Still, a gift from the goddess was as plausible as anything else.

He drank from his glass of beer, ignoring the waitress' rude remark about wishing he would find somewhere else to be, and thought about how strange it was that he wanted this. His childhood, and adult life if he were honest, had been difficult. Ostracized in the public school system for his mother's blood and loathed at home by his older brothers and father, he had learned very quickly that he couldn't count on anybody. But Krystalin wouldn't have those biases, never would if he had his way. He would give her the love that had been denied to him, and she would return that love.

His initial fear when he'd learned that the Psion woman was pregnant was that the baby would favour the Cheetah side, and that they would have to face the same prejudices he had. She still might. Living with the Thundercats she might face some of the same problems he had back on the Ice Moon, and her association with him might hurt her if she were to go back to New Lunis. Still, she would have the childhood he had always wanted, and the affection of a father that he had never gotten.

Knave consumed his beer and rose, paying his tab and heading out into the night. A new day was coming, and a new life for him. So much change, but it all seemed for the better.

* * *

Tycho looked under the bed, checked the closet, and locked the window shut. He was being silly, of course. Darius was watching Zanaya, and he could trust him. Oh, it was theoretically possible she would elude the changeling, but highly unlikely. And if she did then there was very little he could do to stop her from slitting his throat.

With that comforting thought running through his head, Tycho burrowed under his covers and hoped that he would see the morning sun.

* * *

Trust. That's what it all came down to. Lion-O sat on the edge of his bed, having changed into his nightclothes while Snarf fussed with his dirty clothes. Could the Lunataks be trusted? Could Knave? "Something troubles you, Lion-O?" the ghostly voice of Jaga asked, the shimmering figure appearing in his room. He had always counted on the deceased mentor for advice, and was glad of his appearance now.

"It's about the decision I have to make. How do I know if I'm making the wrong one without it being too late?" He asked.

"What does your heart say?"

Even though he knew that Jaga wouldn't give him the straight forward answer, preferring that Lion-O make his own decisions, it still frustrated him. Surely if Jaga could see him then he could see what was happening over in Sky Tomb as well. "My heart says that this isn't a trick. That Tycho has good intentions, even if the rest of his countrymen don't."

"And Knave himself?"

Lion-O hesitated. Where he'd found Tycho reasonably easy to read, Knave was harder. Could he tame his aggression? And where did his loyalties lie? "I don't know. I want to think he's honourable, but..."

"The Icewalkers have a code very similar to our own," Jaga conceded, "they believe in loyalty to their superiors and their kin. So long as his pledge to you is not annulled by another oath, you can trust in him.

"But how do I know what oaths he's made?" Lion-O asked, even as Jaga faded away. It brought him a little closer to a decision, so he stretched out and fell asleep.

* * *

The brain was fascinating. It saw what it wanted to see. Tricking it into not seeing things was difficult, but possible to one who knew what they were doing. Zanaya knew and did it instinctively. There were many Psion disciplines, and she had tried to learn each of them but found that she little aptitude for any, except for that small telepathic trick. Over the years she had found it very useful to walk down the street unnoticed. It took a fair amount of concentration, and wore her out if she used it too long, but it was worth it.

Climbing down Sky Tomb's walls was one of those times. Even though it was late, there were still enough people meandering about that even one of them might sound the alarm if they saw her. When she reached the ground, she found a secluded spot and let the illusion drop. Another trick she had learned over the years was to take advantage of uniforms and perceptions. Darklings and Psions were indistinguishable in the low light, when skin tone mattered little, and wearing a Darkling styled outfit only helped. Anyone who remembered seeing her would recall seeing a white and black uniform and assume it had been a Darkling wandering the streets.

"Now to find Knave. If I were him, disgusting a thought as it is, where would I be?" she thought to herself, heading in the direction of Nitro's home. Unable to afford his own house, at the time being, Knave was living with his father and two harem girls, so that was a logical place to start. Nitro. Just the thought of the man caused her lip to curl. It had been an assignment to kill Nitro that had started the chain reaction that had brought her to Knave. She had failed that mission because her superiors had insisted that he know who had hired her and why, the fools. Realistically she could have had that job done cleanly and been back on the Psion Moon without anyone being the wiser.

She gasped, covering the movement by crouching to tie a boot lace, when she saw him emerge from a bar up ahead. That was good. Mind addled by liquor he would be easier prey to her knife, and his other senses might be dulled as well. That damnable sense of smell had beaten her that first time, his nose catching her scent and helping him beat her. She had washed thoroughly, avoiding the use of any soaps, before leaving but the alcohol was even better. He wasn't stumbling, unfortunately. Zanaya trailed him from a safe distance, always watching for an opportunity to get him somewhere that no one would interfere, but didn't see a good chance until he got home. It didn't matter, tonight it would end.

* * *

Not for the first time Knave cursed the thinness of the walls. Nitro seemed to be occupied in the master bedroom with both of his girls, the giggling far more than he wanted to hear. Sighing, he slipped into his own bedroom, barely stopping long enough to use the bathroom. Soon he wouldn't need to worry about his father. He wouldn't have to see his father again for a very long... The words cut off in his head, the hair on his arm tingling as he opened the bedroom door. Something was wrong. The window was open and there was a familiar smell. He didn't have time to register what it was before he felt something bite deep into his shoulder, a stroke of luck that he'd moved at the right moment. He heard a curse and at once knew what was happening.

Adrenaline pumped through him, even as his blood splattered on the floor. An invisible attacker. The scent. The voice. It all pointed to one person. "Zanaya," he growled, straining to find her. She had obviously stepped back, further in the room, formulating a new plan. She had obviously intended that her first strike would do him in and trying to gauge whether or not he could find her.

It was difficult. The alcoholic haze was still hampering him, but his sense of smell told him roughly where she was. Near the bed, by the window. A single drop of blood touched the mattress and he lunged, grunting as he caught the thin blade in the stomach. The illusion dropped, and he saw her smiling wickedly. She had clearly been holding the blade towards him, hoping that he would fall on to it. He fell awkwardly on the mattress, holding the gaping wound. "You told me that taking a life and sex brought you the same pleasure," she said, leaning close and brushing his hair back out of his face. "You were right." She picked up his icepick from beside the bed and brought it crashing down on his head.

* * *

Darius sprinted, cursing himself for a fool. It all made perfect sense, why hadn't he considered it before? Tycho wouldn't be the target, Knave would. But who had told him of Zanaya's actions? He had been sitting peacefully on the wall when a sudden urgent pressure told him what was going on. Practically begged him to go to Knave because Zanaya had left through the window. He had feared a trick, but seeing Knave's open bedroom window confirmed the plausibility.

He flew to ledge and gaped at the bloody mess before him. Knave's eyes were unfocussed, but moving, blood seeped between the hybrid's fingers and from the open wound on his shoulder. There wasn't much time if he was going to save him. Step one was placing his hands on the wounds, focussing his shape changing to fill them and stop the bleeding, step two was calling out to Nitro for help. Moments later he and Nitro, the latter dressed only in short robe, were transporting Knave's limp body to the hospital.

* * *

Far away, guilt gnawed at Lura. There would be consequences if Mystan ever found out what she had done. He might have her ejected from the priesthood, or even let Zanaya know what had happened. And why had she done it? Some fleeting fancy of hers? Pity? There was a quiet voice deep inside that suggested it was more than that. She'd been in his mind twice now, and both times she had felt such an incredible yearning to be loved. It spoke to her.

When she was young, her parents had told her that she would be important if she could focus on her studies. A Psion's power could be gauged at birth, when a high priest temporarily blocked their abilities, and she had shown great potential. Friends were denied her in the pursuit of keeping her grades up, to bring some degree of prestige to the family. When the temple had accepted her as a candidate for training she had found herself latching on to her first mentor, a Psion only a little older than she was, who had taught her how to wield her powers. She had been desperate herself for affection, and tumbled into bed with him at his first asking, fearing that saying 'no' would lead to an expulsion.

As her power grew she saw that while there was some love between them, there wasn't enough and she ended it, finding herself hurting when she discovered that they couldn't carry on a friendship without the sex. Her second mentor had been more stern, and she'd never developed a fondness for him and feared that she never would until her third mentor. Mystan was a strange mix of the two men. He could be stern and forceful, but she had glimpsed the other side of him, the true side. He kept his emotions walled up within, arguing that they interfered with a Psion's abilities if they could not be controlled. But how often had she seen that wall crack? Anger, love, fear, small cracks in that great wall.

She would see that anger again, if she weren't extra careful. Anger that she had committed the greatest sin and allowed her emotions to guide her actions. Yes, buried deep down she thought she saw the beginnings of love for Knave, but she had to squelch them, because failure might mean her death.


	2. Chapter 2

Truth, Justice, Honour and Loyalty by Jonathan J. Prideaux  
Chapter 2

Knave. House Iespyk. The very words brought bile to Zanaya's mouth. She wished that she had never heard the name of either the man or his family. It was now two days since her attempt at ending his miserable life, an attempt that should have worked. How had he been rescued in time? His precious blood was spilling out of his gaping wounds, his head had taken a forceful blow, and she hadn't seen anyone. Yet he was the one who was expected to be out and about later today while she languished in a god's forsaken dungeon.

The gods. Perhaps they were the root of her problems. The Icewalker goddess, Lunis, in particular. She was the one who had decided that she would carry Knave's child, and that the child would bring her nothing but turmoil. And here she was, incarcerated for trying to prevent the child's father from having her. Maybe she would be better off without both in her life. But then, how much life did she have left? Lunatak laws varied from ruler to ruler, but attempted murder almost always held a high price.

"This child you bring in to the world will cause you heartbreak and pain. Before long, you will be begging me to take your life. Then, and only then, will you know peace." Those were the goddess' words to her. What did they mean? Was that a promising sign that Tycho wouldn't order her death? Or would his death sentence be so horrible that she would be begging. She'd never felt the need to beg before, it was undignified and yet the gods couldn't be wrong.

She rested against the wall of the little cell. At least it was quiet. A pair of Gravitons were in the drunk tank a little further down, but they'd long since fallen asleep, and a Psion man who had been caught stealing was staring out his tiny window. There hadn't been much in the way of crime in the little city of New Lunis, not yet, so most of the fixtures and furnishings were unspoiled by stale urine and sweat. She heard footsteps down the hall, the regular cadence of the guards, come to bring her another meal of stale bread and probably rotten fruit.

* * *

Cat's Lair was looking good. The Berbils had announced that they were finished with the repair work and that the Thundercats could move back in anytime they pleased. Cheetara crossed the bridge on foot, carrying a duffel bag. When the Lair had first been destroyed, very few of her possessions had been salvageable, and fewer still she wanted with her at the Tower of Omens. The important things, like her family and friends, had survived, but that didn't fully lessen the ache she felt.

Still, she had to admit that the Berbils had done a good job restoring it to its former glory. She was always appreciative of the hard work the people of Third Earth put out when they were so inclined.

The Thundertank was parked outside, indicating that Panthro had managed to pick up some food supplies and still beat her there. He was working on updating the surveillance systems in preparation for their guest. Unlike most of the other Thundercats she had had few problems with the hybrid, almost trusted him in fact. Not only had she spent the most time talking to him, learning about him, but the two had been held captive by an evil entity that had tried to usurp Mumm-Ra's position. She had seen him at his most vulnerable then, and also seen the noble streak in him.

Oh sure, she thought as she pushed the door open, there was the occasional story that made her cringe. Anything involving the culinary habits of the Icewalkers especially. Thankfully Knave tended to look a little embarrassed talking to her about it, though whether that was because he sensed her discomfort or because he felt guilt she wasn't sure. Then there was his mother. Through hints and guesses, she had pieced his relationship with her and suspected that she had done something and he'd been forced to take part in her execution. The horrible things a person could do to a child never ceased to amaze her.

"Ho, Cheetara!" Panthro's voice boomed from somewhere above her. She looked up and saw him hanging by a cable, installing something over the door. "Combination motion sensor and camera," he explained. "Give me a second and I'll get you the new access codes for the computers, and you'll need me to get you into the control room. Can't be too careful."

Cheetara considered arguing, but had to concede that some extra precautions were prudent. Knave had never mentioned an aptitude for computers, but anything was conceivable. She waited patiently while he finished screwing in the device and lowered himself to the ground. They walked from the main foyer, up a set of stairs until they reached the control room level. Lion-O's room was on the same floor, with the others spaced around the building. She wondered which room was going to be set aside for Knave, and guessed immediately. Panthro was the one most vocal against allowing the half-Lunatak into the building, and there was a spare room near his.

Panthro walked up to the control room door and placed his palm against the panel adjacent. "There's one on our bedrooms and the weapons room too. It can also be synched for voice commands," he said, as the door slid open. Other than looking cleaner, very little looked different about this control room. The Berbils had managed to replicate most of the room from memory and through salvaging what still worked. Panthro keyed a couple of commands into the computer. "Your turn. Speak into the microphone."

She shrugged and placed a hand against the panel. "What do I need to say?" she asked.

"Nothing. That should do it. Let me know if you have any problems getting into your room." He left her to her own devices to continue his installations.

* * *

Krystalin stared at the small object that seemed to change colour every time she squeezed it. Darius wondered how long it would be before she decided to put his hand in her mouth. He and Tycho had come down to her father's home and were surprised to find that Mystan and Lura had already dropped off the child and her meagre possessions. The fact that Knave was out of the hospital wasn't as much of a surprise, he seemed to have a remarkable ability to heal, and Tycho expressed the hope that this was passed on.

It was an incredible transformation, Darius thought to himself, listening to his master and the hybrid talk. Knave seemed so calm, so happy with the girl near him. Even the rest of the household seemed thrilled, Nuiane and Gravica had been fussing over her until Nitro called them away to give the governor some privacy. That was the one Darius was most curious about. Nitro had never been fond of his son, but he was the only one to produce an heir. Krystalin was the oldest of the generation, and could well find herself as the sire of the House, depending on the rest of the family tree. He made a note to look it up for his own interest.

"When do you want me to leave?" Knave asked.

"The Thundercats are still moving into their Lair, and they've promised to keep you on light duties, whatever their interpretation of that is. I'd say another day or two won't hurt," Tycho replied.

"I think I can manage to have everything packed. I'm sure Nit... my father will be only too pleased to help." Darius heard the slip. So the feud wasn't one-sided, they rarely were. At least he was trying to remember his place. Hopefully that would carry over when he was with the Thundercats. Tycho had promised to send a few history books as a token peace offering, but the primary work would be based on how Knave behaved. Maybe sending the child was a good thing, if it could keep her father in line.

"I'm glad to hear it. We'll send a small ship to drop you off. The Thundercats might get a little nervous if we sent a big cruiser. It'll be a little slower, but should help keep things calm. Get rest and listen to the doctors. I don't care how fast you think you heal, you're no good to me if they're sending you back for repairs." A smile flashed across Tycho's face, taking the sting out of his words. That was one of the things Darius loved about him, how he could turn a command like that into a sense of concern. Few people could be offended by Tycho. A jolt rushed through him as, indeed, his hand disappeared into Krystalin's mouth. He carefully extracted himself before the two went back to Sky Tomb.

* * *

Redirect, block, move, switch... Lura worked her mind quickly as Mystan continued to batter at her psychic defences. Generally he was very good at this, his lack of skill in the telepathic arts made up by his years of experience. But she was quickly closing the gap in knowledge, learning his tricks, and he was impatient today. He had been distracted by the Zanaya affair of late and she couldn't help but feel a little smug that she was doing so well today.

She had the motivation. Buried deep in her mind was the part she had played. It was a knowledge she only let surface when she was absolutely sure that no one was around, hidden by the tiniest of threads. She probably could have left it out in the open for all the care Mystan was taking right now. His frustration was building, until he yanked his mind out of hers with a mildly painful ripping sensation. "You're getting better," he said, his voice low, almost daring her to question him.

"Thank you master. You've taught me well," she said, keeping her thoughts to herself. She had seen Mystan truly angry once before, watched as he telekinetically crushed rocks to powder and threatened to turn such power on an underling who had remarked on it. What would he do to her if he knew the truth?

"What are Tycho's thoughts?" he asked suddenly.

"His thoughts?" she started to asked. Sharp yellow eyes stared at her, and she saw her error. Of course. There was only one thing he could possibly mean. What was he going to do to Zanaya. Searching Tycho's mind was dangerous, but so was being alone in this room with her master. Effortlessly she cast her mind out, questing for that of the governor's. She sensed him walking down the road, and Darius was with him. That would make life more complicated. Some Guardians, creatures genetically programmed to serve the Royals, could detect psychic manipulation. Darius had never shown this ability, but that didn't mean anything.

She touched Tycho's mind with the lightest of touches, trying to remain aware of Darius' aura. There didn't seem to be a change, so she pressed a little harder. The trick to remaining undetected was to be slow and gentle, which wasn't so easy with the subtle drumming of fingers she could sense from her corporeal self. "What are you going to do with Zanaya?" she whispered, the question triggering a reaction in the brain, summoning thoughts and memories. It was easier than sifting through his brain, and possibly finding out more than she wanted to know. Indeed, one of his surface thoughts were on what they planned on doing later in the night. Something involving Darius changing the size of his...

Forcefully, she reminded herself of her purpose. It was easy enough for a telepath's own thoughts to influence the one whose brain she was scanning. Even now, the thoughts she wanted were slipping into the ether while others began to bubble. She clung frantically to the ones concerning Zanaya and began examining them more closely.

The world snapped back into place around her. Lura always found it a little disorienting returning to her own body. Some day, she feared, she would venture out and not return. There were stories of it happening. A telepath could go anywhere, see the world through the eyes of countless persons without having suffer for it. But the mortal body was vulnerable while they were out. A spirit cut from the body could drift forever, unable to ever truly experience life. She shuddered.

"He's leaning towards exile," she said, "though he wants to send her to Luna for judgement. The only reason he doesn't want to is he thinks Luna will sentence her to death." The wave of telekinesis caught her flush in the chest, propelling her the couch into the back wall. She feared for an instant that she'd been found out, bracing herself for another attack, but eased a bit when she saw that it wasn't directed at her, just in general.

 

"Idiots. The Royals are idiots. How many murders have they committed to hold their power, how much blood is on their hands? Zanaya did nothing different than they, she just got sloppy. Exile? Death? For my kin?" Mystan was ranting, pacing back and forth.

"How do we get her out then?" Lura asked. It brought attention back to her, but it was that or be accused of not caring.

"I've got a few ideas."

* * *

The control room was empty aside from Panthro. The other Thundercats had arrived and were performing regular duties in and around Cat's Lair, he just had one last thing to check and he'd done so with a sense of satisfaction. He had seen Cheetara heading outside and had asked her to take his toolbox outside for him, as he planned on doing a tune-up on the Thundertank. Unbeknownst to her, he had placed the monitoring device he intended on strapping to Knave inside. As soon as she crossed the threshold of the entrance, an energy field formed around her and sirens blared.

On the camera, he could see Cheetara look around in confusion, then in annoyance. Soon his laughter came through the speakers. "Sorry about that, Cheetara. Just testing my security system. If you can't escape, then Knave won't either." He deactivated the holding field and headed down. Cheetara would be upset at him, not only for the humiliation but for the way he was reacting to Knave's arrival. He didn't trust the Lunataks, not by a longshot, and felt she was a little overconfident. Time would tell which of them was right in this, he just hoped she wouldn't learn too late.

She was waiting when he got there, along with Lion-O and Wily Kit. "He's a guest, Panthro," Cheetara said sternly. "He can come and go as he pleases."

"That's only for combat situations, or if he goes anywhere he shouldn't. If the Lunataks, or anyone else attack, we can be sure where he is and keep him there," Panthro explained, removing the thin band from the toolbox.

"Which wasn't part of the agreement. Lion-O..."

"I don't like it either, Cheetara, but Panthro has a point. What if he does get into the sword chamber or somewhere else. We need a way of containing him if the need arises. We'll go over it with him to make sure he's prepared," the Lord of the Thundercats said, holding his hand up to forestall further argument. Panthro knew that she would chew Lion-O out in privacy later, as was her right, but his word was law. It was rare that this kind of dispute cropped up, but Panthro had seen it happen before, both under Lion-O himself and under Claudus. The Cheetah nodded her head and sprinted out for a jog.

"She'll be fine," Lion-O said, eyeing Panthro as Wily Kit went back to her work. "But next time, you might want to run this kind of test by me first."

* * *

For Knave, the two days of resting came and went in a rush. He was still under orders to take things easy, which grated at his natural impulses, and a pair of Icewalkers were helping to carry his possessions to the small transport that would take him to his new home. Krystalin was sleeping, blissfully, the feel of her tiny body against his furred chest comforting for both of them. It was going to be an interesting experience to say the least.

All his life his only contact with Thunderians had been prisoners of one sort or another. There were those like his mother who had been pressed into servicing Nitro and other such nobles, and then there were those poor refugees who had had the misfortune of winding up on the Ice Moon. He'd had his fair share of prisoners to interrogate, though most of them were delivered to the Royal Moon.

But the Thunderians he'd be seeing soon wouldn't be in either category, they would be free of shackles and were definitely not a food source. He watched Krystalin's crib be carried into the transport before taking a seat. He was most looking forward to seeing Cheetara again. Of the Thundercats, she was the only one to show him much kindness, but then there had always been a soft spot for those of her race. Loyalty to one's kin was drilled into every Icewalker, often reinforced through brutality, but they obviously hadn't considered cases like his. The one Cheetah prisoner who had been under his care had earned the enmity of his fellows when it was seen that Knave wasn't as harsh towards him. He had been found one morning, dangling from the ceiling by his own entrails.

Knave shook his head. Those days were gone. His mother had always tried to assure him that living among Thunderians would be a better life for him. He supposed he was about to find out whether or not she was right. The transport shifted and slowly rose into the air, leading him to that promised land.

* * *

From his office in Sky Tomb, Tycho watched the launch on his computer monitor. "It's a big moment," he said to Darius, standing behind him. "If this works, it will be the greatest thing I've ever done."

"It's a start. There's been so much bloodshed over the centuries, peace won't happen overnight. And it wouldn't take much to undo," Darius cautioned.

"I know. Which brings me to the next issue. Mystan. He's been too quiet lately, and I don't trust it." Mystan was a schemer, but very influential. He was probably one of the few people on the planet he couldn't touch without repercussions from Luna and her latest missive reminded him. It took close to two days for any transmission to reach the Moons of Plundarr, and she was probably only now getting word about Zanaya's imprisonment. He was holding off a formal decision on the woman until he heard back, back that didn't mean there wasn't political manoeuvring going on. "Let's start by changing her accommodations. I've got a hunch."

* * *

The small transport's windows went black as it went through the Forest of Mists. Knave had been here before on foot, making slow progress while stumbling through the dark. No one understood Third Earth geography, it seemed to be one mysterious locale after another, and the Forest of Mists was no different. It wasn't just dark, it was oppressive. Even something as simple as holding a lit match was swallowed by the darkness. When he'd walked it, he had felt cold and scared. But the cold was good, the cold reminded him that he was alive. His sense of smell and hearing had been muffled in that place too, rendering him down to two senses, and he had no inclination to use his taste buds.

He had heard that the Thundercats had developed a powerful enough light to illuminate land in front of them, but so far they hadn't shared the technology. If they had the Darkling pilot might not have been necessary. Knave wondered how well his infrared goggles were working against that soupy mist, and then hoped they worked very well.

Instead of staring out the window, being drawn into a state of despair, he turned his attention to Krystalin. She was awake and chewing on his vest. She looked so innocent and sweet, and he wished that she could remain that way forever. The transport burst through the other side of the mountain range, filling the interior with natural sunlight again, and continued towards Cat's Lair.

* * *

It was noon, and the guards didn't think anything of Mystan or Lura walking into the dungeons of New Lunis, and Lura made sure that it stayed that way. She didn't particularly enjoy blocking memories from people's minds, it was an inexact science and could cause further problems down the line, but it was a necessary evil sometimes. A high priest's word was law to the Psions, believing that what they did came directly from Cyrus. Besides, she was walking on thin ice. Mystan might not know what she had done, but disobedience might bring a thorough search of her mind, something she couldn't chance. Besides, these were recent memories, so they were less risky.

She had debated what to do about the people on the street. The jail was out in the open, just slightly north of Sky Tomb, and any number of people might have seen them enter. Too many to risk. If there was even one complication, it could draw attention to the prospect of others. Some other gifted telepath might even be able to undo her work. "Down this hall," she reported, looking through another gentleman's brain, seeing the layout perfectly through his eyes.

"Hey baby!" a Graviton voice called as they passed the first line of cells. There was a second Graviton with him, but it was the slightly heavier one who had made the catcall. "Eef you ever get tired of that walking stick of a boyfriend..." his words were cut off as she closed off the memory of their passing. She did likewise to his friend and hurried after Mystan.

Nauseating creatures, the Gravitons were. She swore that every one she passed was undressing her in his mind, some of the women too. She had the power to confirm it, and had once or twice, but it came with visions of the person in question naked as well. Psions tended to have an elitist attitude towards romance, preferring people of their own sub-race to the those of others. Psion/Royals weren't uncommon, but Lura figured that was more for political means than any kind of sexual preference.

"Focus," Mystan's voice cut through her thoughts. They were fast approaching the cell in question and he would need her to be sharp, in case they were interrupted.

Zanaya was standing in her cell, hands clasping the bars of the cage. Lura could feel the energy field that was dampening her powers from outside the door. The assassin didn't say anything immediately, merely watched them, and then spared a glance down the halls. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Rescuing you. Tycho is considering exile or death for you, and we're trying to prevent it," Lura explained. Her master knelt in front of the door and closed his mind, searching. He was looking for the mechanism that would release the lock. He could probably have just torn the door from the wall, but needed to cast doubt on who had performed the rescue.

"That's what I thought," Zanaya said, grinning as the door hissed open. "Tycho figured you'd waited long enough." The voice changed, becoming masculine and a little higher pitched. In horror Lura saw the assassin's body changing, turning green with wings sprouting from the back.

"Darius!" she gasped. But Mystan was quicker, grabbing the changeling as best he could telekinetically. Lura knew that she had to do something, but what? They were immune to telepathy, weren't they? But only because they could move their brains, disperse it throughout their bodies. Darius was still partially in Zanaya's shape, he might be vulnerable now. Forcefully she aimed a psychic blast at him pushing into his head. The process had already started, parts weren't there. She would consider the logistics later, when her life wasn't in danger. She sifted quickly through what she could, and found that the short term memory centre hadn't vanished yet. Whether her mental block would last through shape changing, she couldn't be sure, but it would at least buy them time to escape. "I'm out," she told Mystan, jerking back into the real world.

"Then let's go. Quickly, before he recovers."

* * *

"There it is," Knave said quietly, looking on the massive fortress that was the Thundercats' home. It was a magnificent structure of white and blue, surrounded on three sides by sheer cliffs and on the fourth by a deep gorge. How the Thundercats had managed to find such a location was incredibly good fortune. He wondered what kind of defences they had if someone were to scale the place from the rear, and figured he would probably never know.

The transport ship he was in made a slight turn and landed on the far side of the bridge. All the Thundercats seemed to be on hand except for the two youngest, probably manning the scanners in case there were more Lunatak ships. Lion-O's hand rested lightly on the hilt of the Sword of Omens even as the rear hatch of the ship opened, allowing Knave to step out into the crisp clean air. "Ho, Knave, welcome to Cat's Lair, and to your daughter. Before we go inside, Panthro would like to examine your possessions, just in case there's anything that might interfere with..."

"He wants to look for bombs?" Knave asked the Lord of the Thundercats, a little incredulous at the suggestion. Had the Thundercats always been this suspicious, or was it because of what Aristarchus had done.

"Why don't I escort Knave to his room," Cheetara interjected before the tension could rise. "He's not supposed to move any of these things anyway, remember?"

Panthro handed her something, and an unvoiced conversation passed between the two. He was too focussed on Lion-O's apologetic response. It was something about precautions and how they weren't implicating him of anything, that any number of his kin might have accidentally left something that they shouldn't. Knave tuned out most of it, nodding when he thought it was expected. It was theoretically possible that someone like Mystan might have planted an explosive in his bags, but he didn't think there was time to do it. Besides, Mystan seemed to prefer being relatively hands on so that he could confirm a kill.

Speaking of which, Mystan was lucky that Knave was moving out. Zanaya had nearly killed him, and that wasn't the kind of thing that he took lightly. The next time he saw her, he swore that it would be the last and anyone else from her family who tried to protect her.

He didn't see any need to stick around while his things were searched, so he followed Cheetara across the bridge and up the stairs to the Lair. "As part of the agreement, I'm supposed to make sure you wear this," she said, holding up the tracking device. "I trust you enough not to need it, but Panthro and Lion-O insist."

"I understand. That's Tycho's vision, that this will help our people to trust one another. Frankly, I wouldn't trust us either if I were you," Knave glanced at where the others were working, and thought he saw Panthro look his way. That Panther was going to make his life miserable, he could tell.

"Something like that. Hold still, let me know if it's too tight. I'm told that there's a sensor to tell if it's been tampered with, so please don't try." She knelt at his feet and affixed the device to his ankle. There was a barely audible click as it locked in place and she stood up. "Let's go inside then."

* * *

"I don't detect anything dangerous," Panthro said, managing to sound only a little disappointed. If he could find some reason to shut the whole experiment down, Lion-O knew he would be grateful.

"There's baby food here," Tygra announced. "I'll take a sample to my lab, but I doubt it's poisonous." Lion-O nodded. Diabolical as the Lunataks were, he didn't think they'd be as blatant as that. Still, it would be good to test in case it wasn't compatible with their bodies and to see if they could synthesize something for when that stock ran out.

When Lion-O had learned that Krystalin would be staying with them as well, he had consulted with Tycho on what kind of diet an infant that age lived on, and found that while it was very similar to their own, there were differences. Mostly, however, it seemed to vary from child to child and was a matter of the parent's opinion. "Let's start unloading the ship then, so our Lunatak friend can go."

The pilot stared blankly at them from his seat. He'd watched and listened to the whole conversation in silence and would doubtless be filing some kind of report when he got back. It was one of the reasons Lion-O had hoped that the verbal barbs would be kept to a minimum. Life was going to be awkward for Knave living among strangers, without Tycho worrying about how things were going. He would give his own reports, along with chatting about anything that might turn up in the history books, but the views of that Darkling Lunatak might be just jaded enough to set the governor on edge.

In no time at all, the three of them had managed to unload the contents of the shuttle on to the bridge and slowly retracted it so that they wouldn't have to carry things as far. Once they were done, the pilot took the ship back up into the atmosphere and was gone. "He didn't even say goodbye," Lion-O commented.

"Just as long as he doesn't come back," Panthro replied, picking up two large duffel bags.

* * *

The room was bigger than he was used to, and brightly lit. There was a bed that dominated the room, a closet, a small dresser and a bathroom. Someone had been kind enough to lower the room's temperature so that it was colder than the rest of Lair, and he made a mental note to find some heavier curtains to make the room a little darker. Back on the Ice Moon only the wealthy had windows of any sort, the rest of the mountain cities were light with artificial light. House Iespyk had certainly been wealthy, but Knave wasn't important enough in the hierarchy to merit a window. Besides, he'd spent most of his time in the dungeons, which had even less lighting.

Cheetara took him around the room, showing him where the temperature controls and the intercom were. She handed him a map of Lair, with places like the kitchen and general supply room clearly marked. Someone had also marked with red X's the rooms he was not to enter. She apologized again for the seeming lack of trust and hoped that he would be granted greater freedom sooner rather than later.

"It's been so long since I've seen a baby, do you mind?" she asked, holding out her arms. There wasn't hesitation, to his own surprise, as he handed her Krystalin. There was a faint stab of pain, thinking of his mother, holding him in her arms much like that. The innocense and sheer beauty of the scene. Cheetara leaned her head down, staring at the child, making those noises one makes to a baby and gently rocking her. Krystalin's eyes were wide, but she was quiet, staring at this strange person holding her. "She look so much like you."

"And little like her mother," Knave replied. "We don't know why, either." There were suspicions, something to add to Zanaya's guilt over killing the Icewalker woman whose name the child bore. The doctors had tested her and his own Icewalker half was the dominant strain in her DNA, accounting for half of hers. She would be a master of snow and ice in the same way that some Psions could control fire, a new ability unheard of before in any such pairings.

She handed Krystalin back as the other Thundercats began entering the room, bearing luggage, which they dumped with some care along the near wall. Knave owned very little in the way of furniture, and would find a place for most of his things in the space the Thundercats had provided. "We'll let you get settled. If you need anything you can use the intercom. Someone will get you when dinner's ready," Lion-O said.

When he was alone, Knave rocked his child and stared around the room. "Well, kid, this is it. Our new home. Hope you like it."

* * *

Lura was pushing exhaustion. For the last five hours Mystan had had her searching the city for any clues as to where the real Zanaya might be. Touching Tycho's mind was too dangerous, especially since his suspicion level was already raised, and Darius was certainly out of the question. Whatever those two had done with her, they had done it well.

The exercise wasn't entirely fruitless, though, she hadn't detected any sign from the guards in the jail that Darius realized what had happened. As far as any of *them* knew, it was Zanaya in the cell. Mystan wouldn't be happy to hear that, though, and she could already sense his aggravation level near critical mass. If she reported more failure to him... She shuddered at the thought.

She ventured through the bowels of Sky Tomb, looking into the mind of a janitor who was fighting a losing battle against the badly stained tiles. She searched through the jumbled thoughts of a spider, perturbed that its web was empty today. Lura even examined a rat that had died an hour before. Searching the minds of the dead was tricky stuff, and even that depended on being there within a short period of time. None of them saw anything even remotely resembling Zanaya of late, nor the prince, nor his changeling.

But would that make sense? The guards at the jail didn't remember Zanaya leaving, so there must have been a disguise of some kind used. She brought herself back to the real world and took a long drink of water. Mystan was sitting in front of her still, staring at her in an unnerving way. "Nothing yet," she said, swaying ever so slightly. She'd been out of her body too long and her head ached from the strain. "I just need to get something to eat and I'll keep going."

"Make it quick. I'm not used to being foiled like this," he said, harshly. She knew Mystan wasn't lying. He had the rank that made people around him bend to his will, he was smart enough to usually be on the winning side, and that control was slipping. He had been Aristarchus' strongest supporter and his reputation had taken a beating when the former governor had gone mad.

Lura had seen the report from the Psion Moon and knew how displeased they all were for not being able to control their pawn. But Mystan had been taken captive by some demon, and that disappearance had contributed to Aristarchus' insanity. How could he be at fault for that? Too bad the other high priests didn't see it that way.

Hurriedly Lura got some food from the cupboard and ate. There was an urgency, since her mental block on Darius could fall at any second. Once she was settled on the ground again, she resumed her hunt.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair. The Thundercats sat around the table, having helped themselves to the buffet of food Snarf had provided and spoke mostly about trivial matters. The Wollo mayor was expecting another child, the Bulkins were concerned about having seen Jackalman in the neighbourhood, and the Warrior Maidens wanted to know how things were going. It wasn't terribly interesting, to Knave's ears but he listened anyway, contributing when necessary.

The conversation turned very briefly to the Lunataks, but an awkward silence filled the room, forcing Cheetara to change the subject to how well the sensor grid was working. Through the meal Knave sampled a number of different Thunderian foods, impressed at the variety of concoctions one could make using mostly candy fruit. He was a little disappointed, though he wouldn't admit it, that there was very little meat available.

But the biggest problem, he found, was the hostility radiating from both Panthro and the Thunderkittens. It wasn't that he particularly cared what they thought of him, he had been called every name in the book by his prisoners, but he had to remind himself of his duty and not try and provoke reactions.

"Krystalin seems to be enjoying herself," Snarf said, walking over to the stroller she was sitting in, as she stared wide eyed around the room. "I thought they said she was always crying, snarf, snarf, but I've barely heard a peep from her."

"That's what Zanaya said, that she was nothing but trouble," Knave replied. He took a bite of a candy fruit glazed piece of fish. "Frankly I don't blame the kid, Zanaya was a bit of a bitch."

"Which made you the perfect couple," Wily Kat retorted almost immediately.

The rest of the Thundercats looked in shock from one to the other. Panthro's hand clenched, watching Knave to see if he would lash out, but the hybrid just laughed. He wouldn't win a fight here, but he'd figure out a way to keep his vow to Tycho and pay the whelp back. "Wily Kat, behave yourself or there'll be no Berbilberry pie," Snarf managed to find his voice first, then rounded on Knave. "And you should watch your mouth around children or old Snarf will find a bar of soap to wash your mouth."

He counted to three internally, his initial response discarded. "Of course. My apologies, among the Lunataks we don't think twice about such language. I'll bear that in mind for the future."

The tension eased noticeably. "That's much better. Now, who wants pie?"

* * *

When dinner was over Tygra escorted Knave back to his room. It wasn't so much an issue of trust, he was wearing his ankle tracking device after all, he argued to himself that Knave was not yet acquainted with the layout of Cat's Lair. This was true, but not entirely so. It would be a while before any of the Thundercats would feel comfortable with Knave wandering loose around the Lair, and vice versa. If Wily Kat and the Lunatak had had that little sparring match elsewhere, Jaga alone knew what might have happened.

With that done, he returned to the control room to help Lion-O with the last watch of the day. Very little tended to happen in the evening, and the systems were set on automatic through the night. "Sector 12b all clear," Lion-O mumbled aloud, cycling through the various cameras they had set up through the area. They had tried, once, putting one at Castle Plundarr, but the range was too great. "Oh, hello Tygra."

"Hello. Another quiet night, I hope?" he asked, settling in front of a monitor of his own.

"So far. We've had enough excitement the last little while. We should send someone to check on the Mutants. I don't trust it when they're quiet, especially after that Bulkin report."

"I can do that tomorrow. I'm wanting to stop in at the Berbil village, and Castle Plundarr's not too far out of my way."

* * *

Alone again, with only his child for company, Knave began rummaging through the boxes and putting away what possessions he had. When he'd first come to this planet, roughly a year and a half ago now, it had been with the intent of finding Chilla and coming straight back. He hadn't bothered packing much then, just a small bag with a few changes of clothes. His father, graciously, had arranged for two more boxes to be sent. It was a rare act of kindness from the man who loathed him. Perhaps it was a token appreciation for having gotten the job done.

News reports from the Moons of Plundarr indicated that Luna had brought a measure of stability to the uncertain power structure. Following her disappearance, and her husband's assassination, there had been a revolving door of kings and queens. Now there was hope, provided Luna could produce an heir.

An old stuffed toy, an Icewalker dressed in a flight suit, came out of the box and Krystalin squealed as he placed it with her in her crib. She grabbed it and promptly began sucking on one of the feet. He smiled and tossed his clothes into the dresser. He eyed the other box, the one containing his trophies, and debated whether or not to put them on display. Mostly they were taken off kills that he was particularly proud of, and many were Thunderian in nature.

His father would have without a second thought, knowing that such things would intimidate visitors, especially blowhards like Panthro. It was why Nitro's office had a Cheetah hide hanging over the desk, to remind both son and harem of the consequences of betrayal. It was tempting, especially the carefully preserved Panther hand. It was the only thing that had remained undamaged after the prisoner's foiled escape attempt, having been severed almost immediately. Even without it, the man had put up an impressive fight, earning Knave's respect in death.

But Knave tried not to be like his father. He hated how he'd been treated by the man, with such contempt for his existence. Icewalkers were hard on their children, expecting them to grow faster than those from other moons, but Knave knew that he'd been given less slack than his brothers had. It wouldn't be like that for Krystalin; she would lead a beautiful life, full of happiness. He put the severed hand on the dresser anyway, and set out a few of the more tasteful artifacts.

* * *

"You summoned me?" a lanky Psion named Extroc asked, knocking on the door to Mystan's room. Things were not going well, Lura was on the brink of exhaustion, and Mystan was no closer to finding an answer. Hence he had decided to take a chance and had summoned another Psion telepath to pick up where Lura had left off.

"I did. Lura is having trouble finding my niece, Zanaya. I need you to try and find her," he said simply. Realistically any Psion in the city would have agreed to do Mystan's work, angering a high priest was akin to angering the gods themselves, but few would ask as few questions as Extroc. He just assumed that Mystan had his reasons and obeyed immediately, settling on the floor in front of his student. Extroc placed his hands on top of Lura's and used it as a focus to find Lura's psychic self to learn where he should start.

Lura swayed noticeably as she returned to her body and put out a hand to steady herself. "I'm sorry, master," she said, bowing her head slightly.

He shrugged indifferently. Her apology wouldn't change things, but it was good that she acknowledged her failure. There was something about her that was bothering him lately, some faint aura that he couldn't put his finger on. If he wasn't so focussed on the task at hand, he might have been inclined to scan her mind in this vulnerable state to learn the truth. He watched her stagger to her feet and collapse down on the couch, drawing her blanket tightly around her head. If Extroc was unlucky, he would just have to put her to work again in the morning.

* * *

"I'm still not sure about the ethics of this," Tycho thought to himself. Morning had come to Dark Side, and the light didn't seem to be brightening up either the landscape or his mood. Outside people were going about their business, mostly continuing the construction of buildings and the like, but inside his head he was conflicted. They were trying a largely untested and possibly immoral tactic on Zanaya.

A Graviton scientist, some years ago during the war between the moos, had come into the possession of a trio of Psions and had performed some dubious experiments. None of the three had survived to tell the tale, but he had come up with something interesting. If a person was kept sedated under certain chemicals their minds appeared not to exist to Psion brainwaves.

Hidden in a room that only he and Darius had any access to, Zanaya lay in a state of unconsciousness, a tiny amount of the chemical solution pumping through her system. Tycho and Darius knew Mystan too well. If for some reason he figured out that the person in the jail wasn't Zanaya he would scan the city looking for her. But how long before Mystan would take the chance to read his mind, or try some other tactic? What they needed was a more permanent solution.

Mystan was powerful, both in regards to the telekinesis at his control and the political might he had. It made him very dangerous, and Tycho needed some way to keep him in check. He also couldn't just let Zanaya run around at her leisure. Even exiled there was a chance she would come back to Third Earth in search of his head. "I hate Psions," he muttered, dressing for the day.

* * *

Lion-O weighed the options in front of him. Panthro had gone to the Berbil village with Tygra to help them deal with an insect infestation that was threatening the latest crop of candy fruit. Cheetara had gone to the Tower of Omens to do some repair work, and he had to repair a faulty radio in the Warrior Maiden village. He didn't really want to leave the Thunderkittens alone with their guest, but he wasn't sure if Knave would want to join him.

He knocked on the hybrid's bedroom door. "Good morning. I hope I didn't wake you," Lion-O said.

"No. Krystalin's been awake for about half an hour, she wanted company." There was the ghost of a smile on Knave's face as he said it. Lion-O had never dealt much with children, but he'd heard horror stories about it. Snarf told him that he'd constantly been a handful when he was younger.

"Sorry to hear it. I thought you might like to join me at the Warrior Maiden village. I've got some work to do, and there's no one around here other than the kittens."

"In other words, you want to keep an eye on me. You could just say it."

Lion-O looked shocked. He really did have the best intentions at heart, he just didn't always know how to communicate them. "That's not it at all. I just thought you'd both be more comfortable if you weren't stuck together. I'm sorry if it came across as insulting." It was a horrible feeling, being thought of in that way, but Lion-O supposed that there was a reason behind it. In fact, if he thought about it a little, he did come across that way.

Knave gestured for Lion-O to enter while he put on his boots. "You call that insulting? Remind me sometime and I'll tell you some of the names I've been called. Darklings are the worst for it. I don't think it's physically possible to do some of the things they suggested. There's no need to dance around the issue, I can take it. The kittens don't want to be around me, especially alone. I get that. So let's not make them uncomfortable." Unsure how to take the small rant, Lion-O led the way down to the waiting Thunderclaw.

* * *

Darius tried to remember to scowl in Tycho's direction when his ward approached, flanked by two guards. Playing Zanaya was easy around the common folk, she seemed to enjoy giving people hostile glares and refusing to speak. At least his version did, and no one seemed to correct him. Shape changing was a simple matter for his people. Specific shapes could be tricky, and mimicking voices more so, but Darius had had plenty of practice at it.

So far the incarceration had gone well. Tycho had ordered the guards to leave 'her' alone other than for feeding, and there were no other prisoners in this section of the jail. Not that there had been much crime anyway. Lunataks were fairly lawless by nature, but they hadn't been on Third Earth long enough for any of the mischief makers to arrive from the Moons. "You can go," Tycho said, not looking at either of the men, "she won't cause me any trouble. Will you?"

Darius spat on the ground, a gesture of contempt. But mostly it was to avoid those eyes. Darius had always been able to read Tycho's emotions, through his expression, his body language, but especially the eyes. Today his eyes spoke of sadness clashing with annoyance with a large helping of longing. Tycho was a loving person, but his station meant that he had to be careful whom he let his guard down around. He'd often wondered if that was a small part of the popularity of the Guardian program. Genetic engineer someone who would be absolutely loyal to you and you could afford those moments of weakness without wondering when the person would jam the knife in your back.

When the guards had finally left, Tycho lowered his voice and stepped close to the cell. "Anything yet?"

"Nothing but a splitting headache," he replied. Darius wanted to reach through the bars, comfort his prince, stroke his silken hair that smelled faintly of mint. There were cameras in the hall, and it was too risky, but it was so tempting. A scandal where Tycho was sleeping with a prisoner wasn't needed now. "I'll be fine."

"I know. I don't think we can do this much longer. We need to make a decision. Sooner or later Mystan's going to find out the truth or make his move."

Tycho's body went rigid for a moment and Darius acted instinctively. He had seen it before. Telepaths had tried to invade his head before and Guardians were trained to recognize the signs. Instantly his body morphed into a protective bubble around Tycho, constantly changing to block the telepathic waves from penetrating. And suddenly the migraine was gone. In its place was the unprotected memory of Mystan and Lura's attempt to free Zanaya.

* * *

Lura lurched awake when she heard Extroc's colourful litany of curses. The commotion also seemed to draw Mystan from his room. "What is it? What have you done?" he snapped. Lura could tell by looking that her master had gotten very little sleep the night before.

"I'm so sorry. I thought if anyone might know where Zanaya was, it would be Tycho. He was in the jail, visiting the one you said wasn't Zanaya, and..."

She knew what that meant. Darius had shape changed, the secret was out. Mystan knew it too. Lura could feel the almost palpable anger emanating from his body as he stared at Extroc. Mystan believed that emotions had to be harnessed and he was swiftly losing his control over them. With an unearthly roar he lashed out with his pent up power, wrenching the head from Extroc's body and splattering it against the far wall. Lura braced herself, running through the list of mental shields that might hold against such an onslaught, but Mystan's anger petered out as his logical mind took over.

"Tycho will be here soon. Possibly with security. We should be ready."

* * *

The wind whistled through Knave's hair as the Thunderclaw travelled towards the Tree Top Kingdom. It felt good, an exhilarating sensation that he seldom experienced. Running would have been better, especially in this pleasant weather, but this was faster.

It was also very trusting of the young Lord of the Thundercats to expose himself like this. Though Knave's arms were wrapped around Lion-O's waist, it would be a small effort to kill him with the slender blade at his hip. He could do the deed, pitch him over the side, and probably still have time to get to the controls before it crashed. Probably. Krystalin would be in the way for that, he supposed, cradled against his chest. It was all moot, anyway, Knave wasn't inclined to kill Lion-O, his loyalty to the throne and a general liking of the man prevented it.

He was, however, curious to test him in hand to hand combat. Ever since Tycho had brought up staying with the Thundercats, Knave had debated how he would keep in top physical condition, and certainly sparring was an option. Neither the Thunderkittens nor Panthro would work, as he didn't trust himself to stop himself from dealing a killing stroke, but Tygra and Lion-O certainly were.

Cheetara then? A memory of his mother, her eyes squeezed shut, as Nitro made his younger self kill her, came unbidden. No. He couldn't spar with Cheetara, not yet, not without seeing that horrible moment. Krystalin made a noise, somewhere between a giggle and a burp, and the horrid thought was banished like the darkness was by light. Krystalin was his light and no evil would harm her.

* * *

To say that Mystan was surprised to find only Tycho and Darius on the other side of the door was an understatement. He had, in truth, fully expected a full complement of soldiers to arrest him, instead of just two. Which meant that the governor had something else in mind. "Tycho, how may I be of service?" he asked, on the off chance that their deception was unknown.

"I have enough evidence to have you sent back to the moons in disgrace," Tycho replied. "Murder too, I see."

Mystan spared a glance over his shoulder at the headless body of Extroc. Lura had at least had the courtesy to find a sheet to cover the head with. It would be sent back to the Psion Moon at the next opportunity, and the brain added to the psionic batteries beneath the temple. "Internal affair, well within my jurisdiction."

"Attempting to break out Zanaya and attacking my bodyguard are not, however. I know how tenuous a hold you have on your position as high priest these days, and a charge like that could be disastrous. Look, we have never seen eye to eye, from your days supporting Aristarchus, to now. I'm not asking for friendship, I'm asking for peace between us. If you can guarantee your good behaviour and take full responsibility for Zanaya's actions, I will release her and pretend all of this didn't happen. Understand?"

He did. He hadn't expected anything remotely like this offer, but he did understand it. It was one of Tycho's character flaws that had put Aristarchus in front of him in the eyes of the Psion high priests. Tycho didn't like making the difficult decisions. Aristarchus would have executed the both of them instantly, here Tycho was offering a token of peace. How different the two men were, Mystan thought, not that he was complaining in this instance.

"Crystal clear. Now, if you'll take me to the real Zanaya then?"

* * *

She floated through a purple mist, surrounded by laughing children. She knew them, they all bore the same marks on the throat. Little necks, snapped before they could grow old. Zanaya looked down at her hands, in an attempt to avoid those rictus grins on crooked heads, but they were drenched in blood. Thick, syrupy blood that stank of death. The babies began spinning around her, creating a vortex in the purple mist, until they united into one. A tall blue skinned woman with white hair. Her hands reached for Zanaya's throat. "Mother," the woman croaked, cold hands touching her neck.

* * *

Tycho was startled by the scream. The quartet had entered the small room Zanaya was being kept in to unhook her from the chemical solution that was keeping her sedated. Certainly the scientists hadn't mentioned anything like this as a reaction. He looked to Mystan, who immediately stood in front of her, speaking to her telepathically no doubt. Zanaya's features softened, whatever unknown terror had been bothering her dispelled. They hardened again suddenly and she spat in Tycho's direction.

"I take full responsibility for that, governor," Mystan said with a hint of sarcasm, as he led his niece and his apprentice out.

"I don't care. Just keep your end of the bargain," he replied.

* * *

Lion-O landed the Thunderclaw outside the warrior maiden village, in a small clearing. The Thundercats preferred to land near the village, rather than in it, due to the close spacing of the tree huts and the love the maidens had for their 'primitive' lifestyle. "Stay with me," he cautioned Knave as the two dismounted and began the short trek. The last time the maidens had seen the Lunataks had been when the armies of Third Earth had rallied against the Lunar city of New Lunis. The maidens might be inclined to react to his presence before Lion-O could explain. Twenty-three warrior maidens had died in the assault, and many more had been wounded. Doubt crept into his decision to bring the hybrid, but it was too late now.

The forest was still, reminding Lion-O of the forest of silence. It was an eerie calm, that warned him that they were being closely watched. Krystalin began a soft whimpering, picking up on the tension in the air. "It is I, Lion-O, Lord of the Thundercats. I come in peace!" he said out loud. His eyes scanned the trees, but he couldn't see anything for the dense foliage.

He led the way a little further, with still no sign of their watcher, until an arrow thudded into the ground, inches from Knave's foot. "Go no further, evil one," the commanding voice of Willa said. The woman herself emerged from further along the path. She narrowed her eyes angrily at Knave.

"It's okay, Willa. He's with me."

"I know. That's why he isn't dead. He is unwelcome in our village, for the evils that his people committed, and it's only our friendship with you that keeps him alive."

A glint of metal in the trees showed that that blessing could change in an instant. Luckily it seemed as though the half-breed wasn't inclined to fight at present, especially under losing odds. Willa was stubborn, and Lion-O knew it from past dealings. "I'm sorry, Knave. If you go back to the Thunderclaw, I'm sure this won't take long."

"Don't worry, they're just as intolerant as the Lunataks," he replied, turning on his heel and walking away. A faint rustling in the trees indicated that the maidens would be keeping a close watch on him even from there.

"You'll have to forgive him, he's got a bit of a short temper," Lion-O began, crossing the distance between himself and the queen of the Warrior Maidens.

"And you should know better than to bring such a disgusting creature into our home. We're better off without his kind. We fought alongside you against those monsters, if you recall. I lost some good women to them, friends and family." She stopped short of hitting him, though the words stung more than any physical blow.

"But he's part Thunderian. With him maybe we can reform the Lunataks."

"Do as you please. But if he crosses our borders again, he's dead. Now, the radio is this way."

* * *

He had had few dealings with humans. Back when he had served as jailer for Nitro on the Ice Moon there hadn't been any, and here on Third Earth they had generally avoided Dark Side. Knave knew he'd been followed back to the Thunderclaw, his senses were working fine and he wasn't an idiot. How many were there, he wondered, setting to work scanning the trees to find their hiding spots. They were good, he only spotted the one, and he cheerily waved at her. "I can see your foot," he called out. Instantly it moved, but there was no further response. It didn't matter, he wouldn't be able to get at one of them before being turned into a pincushion anyway.

Carefully unhooking Krystalin, he set her down on the seat of the Thunderclaw. This was the reality of his situation. The Lunataks weren't loved throughout the universe, and they did very little to try and change that opinion. Tycho was different. He saw a need to change the reputation, and he was honest in his motives. Knave respected that, and yet their was something too friendly about the man, almost a weakness. Lion-O was the same; too friendly, but he at least looked like he could handle himself in a fight. Maybe that was a good thing where this proposed alliance was concerned, Tycho and Lion-O were similar men in their ideals and desire for peace. The question was whether their people would follow.


	3. Chapter 3

Truth, Justice, Honour and Loyalty by Jonathan J. Prideaux  
Chapter 3

"Adjusting to the length of days here on Third Earth isn't nearly as bad as you'd think. With five moons and the planet Plundarr, we're used to making the change," Knave was sitting in his room with Cheetara. The Thundercats had a great thirst for knowledge on life on the Moons of Plundarr, and often either Cheetara or Lion-O would come and visit and ask questions. Tygra did once, but he seemed to be uncomfortable around the hybrid Lunatak. Knave was reasonably certain it was mostly a natural shyness than any particular dislike for the man.

"Thundera isn't... wasn't much different than Third Earth; only about an hour off. Truthfully, a lot of our current calendar we've stolen off the Warrior Maidens and other gentle creatures. Twelve months to a year, twenty-four hours to a day, and so on." It was Cheetara today, and he was happy. He found that he got along better with the woman than any of the other Thundercats. He'd been here almost a week now, and Panthro still regarded him with suspicion, while the Thunderkittens bristled with open hostility. He didn't blame any of them, his people weren't the most trustworthy. The feelings were largely reciprocated. Back on the Moons he had been taught that Thunderians were a pathetic species forcing their way of life on to others by feigning to be friends. If you disagreed they would put pressure on you, and guilt you. When that didn't work, they'd destroy you.

"We set our clocks by the Royal capital," he resumed. "I'm not sure when that started, probably for trade reasons. We were lucky on the Ice Moon, our rotation was close to that of the Royal, we only needed to add thirty-one seconds at the end of the day to compensate. The Darklings weren't so lucky. While we all have twenty hour clocks, they have to add a whole hour. The Gravitons, of course, used technology to speed their moon up to keep it in line." The conversation had arisen over a discussion on the calendar system in the files that Tycho had sent over. Some were marked with low numbers, while others with high. Knave had explained that because Luna didn't know what year it was when they were awakened by Mumm-Ra, they had declared that to be the first day of the first month of year one. Other files would reference dates on the moons of Plundarr.

"Wouldn't that throw off their ecology?" Cheetara asked, amazed.

"You're asking the wrong person. Nitro gave me the best education, but only enough to make sure I wouldn't embarrass him." Knave glanced over to where Krystalin was snuggled up against her Mr. Spaceman doll. She was reasonably well behaved for him, for which he was grateful.

As Cheetara was about to respond, an alarm blared through Cat's Lair. The female speedster bolted from the room, even as an explosion rocked the building. Knave didn't know what was going on, but figured this was the chance he'd been waiting for. Combat against the enemy. Who they were and how many there were didn't matter. He had been couped up inside so long he didn't care. He ran to the door and found, to his irritation, that it was locked, as was the window when he tried to open it. All he could do was watch in frustration.

* * *

Mutants. Always with the blasted Mutants, Panthro snarled to himself, trying to get a lock on Vultureman's Flying Machine. Luckily he had been outside tinkering with his proudest creation, the Thundertank, when he had spied the Mutants approaching. He hit the alarm and then prepared for action. When would they ever learn? Throwing themselves blindly at the Thundercats only resulted in them having to go back home to lick their wounds and repair their vehicles. More than once he had suggested to the council that they pursue them and break the cycle.

A beam of green energy hit the ground beside him, sending debris into the air. Some new weapon then, probably an invention of Vultureman's. The Mutants always seemed to be a little more bold when they were cowering behind the Avian's inventions. He didn't know what the energy would do to him, and he didn't really want to find out.

Vultureman's plane dipped and turned, getting ready to make another run at the Lair, affording Panthro the opportunity to take a quick look to see where everyone else was. The Thunderkittens were harassing Monkian with what looked to be laughing gas, while Tygra and Cheetara were keeping Jackalman off guard. Both Mutants were in Skycutters, nasty little machines that Panthro was itching to destroy again.

"Ho!" he heard Lion-O shout, pointing the Sword of Omens at Slythe's Nosediver, and knocking the Reptilian over the edge of the bridge into the gorge.

He was too open, and his attention was diverted, watching to see the fate of the Mutant. Even as Panthro tried to swivel the Thundertank's gun into position, he saw Vultureman's Flying Machine swooping down towards the young Lord of the Thundercats. A beam lanced into the ground at Lion-O's feet, cascading him with dirt and stone. Vultureman attempted to correct his aim and narrowly scorched Lion-O's left leg as the Lord dove away. He roared in pain, the green glow spreading swiftly along the wound.

"Lion-O!" Panthro cursed, ripping a series of shots into the Flying Machine, crippling it. With their numbers dwindling and equipment in shreds, the Mutants beat a hasty retreat. They could wait. Their leader could not. Panthro sprinted towards where Lion-O lay, his skin a greenish hue, and was soon joined by the others.

"What's wrong with him?" Wily Kit asked.

"I don't know. That weapon of Vultureman's got him. No, don't touch him!" Tygra as Wily Kat leaned closer. "I saw it spread quickly, and we don't know if it will infect any of us. We'll have to be careful carrying him into the Lair. Why don't you call Pumyra at the Tower of Omens, we'll need her help."

"Where's Knave? Why didn't he come out and fight?" Cheetara asked suddenly, even as the youngest Thundercat took off inside.

"Didn't have much of a choice. I locked him in a room. Better there than sticking that icepick of his in our backs," Panthro said, with a hint of smugness. Configuring the system to isolate Knave had been a stroke of genius. Know where your enemies were at all times.

"And maybe Lion-O wouldn't have gotten hit if we had the extra help," Cheetara snapped.

"Yeah, maybe Vultureman would have shot him instead," Wily Kit piped up.

"Enough," Tygra's normally reserved voice cut through the tension. "We'll deal with that issue later. Lion-O has to be our first priority. Cheetara, now that the action's over, why don't you go do damage control with our guest. Wily Kit, you join your brother in the control room, I want every warning if those Mutants decide to come back. Panthro and I will take it from here. And someone let Snarf know what happened. He'll be worried sick." Automatically everyone obeyed, heading to their particular tasks. For his part Panthro ducked into the garage and collected two pairs of disposable gloves and a gurney from the infirmary. He only hoped the Mutants' weapon wouldn't do any lasting damage.

* * *

Mystan floated through the ether, emptying his mind of all other worldly concerns. He set a mental beacon, requesting an audience with Cyris, god of wisdom and death. He was also the patron deity of the Psion people. Dealing with the gods, even for a priest of Mystan's rank, was risky. An angry god could not be stopped by mere mortals, and who knew what might offend them. Sometimes, even a plea such as his would earn the wrath of gods.

From what he knew, Cyris was better than most. He was patient and kind, generally protective of the Lunatak people. Mystan knew the tales of his other aspect, though, the angry reaper who destroyed worlds in a fit of anger. That was the aspect he didn't want to encounter today.

In the space of time it took his eyes to blink, the god was standing before him. He wore a simple white robe dotted in eyes, the symbol of Psion power. This was not the guise Mystan was accustomed to seeing him in.

"No, it isn't. Last time I saw you, you were seeking guidance on how to redeem yourself from Aristarchus' folly. I chose a more appropriate outfit for this occasion," the voice was soft, much softer than a god's voice should be.

"Appropriate?" Mystan queried, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Because you need to open your eyes and see more clearly. You are much too close to your problems and thinking with muscles instead of your mind." An image appeared in the air, two windows. In the first was himself and Zanaya, in the other Knave and Tycho. Seated between them was Krystalin.

"You're right, of course," he stated. The god of wisdom knew everything he did and more. "Pride and loyalty to my family dictate vengeance on that half-breed and the governor that would protect him. But my standing has eroded. I stand to lose a lot if we fail again."

Cyris' face remained impassive. "You stand to lose more than you think," he said. "Events are already in motion that you cannot control. The reward is great, but the price may be steep. Open your eyes and see clearly." The eyes on Cyris' robe began to widen and shift, merging to become one giant eye that swallowed him up.

* * *

Perspiring greatly, Mystan came back into his body from his meditative state. Lura was where he'd left her, watching him with concern plastered on her face. He ignored it and stretched. There was much to consider and the extra set of ears would help.

* * *

Cheetara was not surprised to find that Knave had taken his incarceration poorly. He had sworn up and down that he would tear Panthro limb from limb for his clear mistrust. At the moment, she was almost willing to let him. Only when he promised not to try anything did she let him leave.

It was a setback, she'd been successful in getting him to open up so much. She now knew more about the Lunataks than she had ever hoped to know, she could almost see how similar their races were. They bled just as easily as any Thunderian, and felt the same sorrows and joys. And they could feel pain. Knave's voice spoke of anger and vengeance, but the eyes and posture spoke of a deep hurt. Icewalkers trusted one another, he had told her, their word was their bond and now they had offended that honour.

She settled in front of her mirror, stretching out tense muscles. The fight with the Mutants had gone fairly smoothly up until Lion-O's injury, and she had suffered only a slight bruising while avoiding Jackalman's shots. Lion-O. "I should check on him," she thought to herself, abandoning her regimen.

* * *

"Of course. I've been looking at this much too closely," Mystan said, rubbing his chin in thought. He and Lura had gone over and over Cyris' message, and the answer came so suddenly he thought someone must have put it there. He couldn't be sure, of course. The words of Cyris could be interpreted many ways. That was one of the tricks. The concept of reward and punishment could indicate the consequences if he tried to get revenge and failed or they could indicate the attempt itself. Perhaps there was punishment waiting if he tried, or the punishment would occur if he didn't. It was one of the reasons the Psions had an Oracle, someone to take the blame for the misinterpretation of the gods.

"We've been taking the brute force route to revenge, but there's so many other ways. Remember when Krystalin was born?" Lura nodded. She hadn't been present, of course, but she'd been told of the events. "I placed a mental block around her mind, preventing her from being able to access her powers until she was old enough." It was common, if difficult. He had performed it himself on the child even as she was surgically removed. There were far too many stories of a child's powers manifesting in wildly unpredictable ways. "What if we removed that block? Either the power would destroy the Thundercats and that accursed Knave, or he would beg us to take her back."

"But master. To do that you'd need to be close to her, and Tycho will never allow it," Lura said. The poor child, so fearful.

"Then we'll go her without Tycho knowing. Zanaya can get me close, and you can keep watch on the Thundercats' activity."

* * *

"What are you doing in here?" Wily Kit growled, standing protectively in front of Lion-O, while her brother came over to join her. The Thundercubs had been left alone to see the Lord of the Thundercats, though no one was being permitted to cross the barrier that Tygra and Pumyra had erected. There was so much they didn't know. Discussion would be held soon over what to do, once the basic operations of the Lair were taken care of.

The young girl glanced at her brother, and felt a surge of disappointment that it was he instead of Panthro, who had relieved her in the control room, standing beside her. Panthro could handle Knave for sure. She knew that as a pair that they were capable of handling most any opponent, but there was very little they knew about the hybrid other than that he was bad news. "Oh shut up, I came to check on Lion-O."

"So you can finish him off, no doubt," Wily Kat produced an exploding capsule. "I told him you couldn't be trusted. You're going to kill and eat us."

Something flashed across Knave's face. Anger perhaps, she wasn't good at reading expressions. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. I do know a few recipes you'd be good for, actually. As long as Snarf has nutmeg in the cupboard." Maybe that's what the look was, one of hunger. None of the others had really believed her brother when he said that Knave had suggested cooking, but she had. She knew him well enough to know when he was lying. And this cinched it. Before she could react, Wily Kat had thrown whatever capsule he'd been holding at the Lunatak hybrid, exploding across the man's arm.

"Bit of a sticky situation you're in," Wily Kat chuckled, as the glue set in, holding Knave firmly in place.

"Let's tie him up before he gets free," Kit added.

* * *

Cheetara heard cursing from the infirmary and began sprinting, covering the short distance. The Thunderkittens held their lariats in their hands, with Knave wrapped up on the other end, covered from head to toe in a sticky yellow glue. She recognized some of the Plundarrian words as being very vulgar and hoped to never know what the others meant. "Wily Kit! Wily Kat! What are you doing?"

The twins looked surprised and a little smug. "We caught him before he could do anything to Lion-O," Kat said, giving his lariat an extra tug, which off-balanced Knave long enough to send him tumbling to the floor.

"What do you mean?" She could hardly believe it. Were Panthro and the others right? Was this all part of a Lunatak plot? It didn't make sense if it was. Knave had had plenty of opportunities to do Lion-O in. Why now?

"We saw him come in, and..." Wily Kat's voice trailed off. "Well, he didn't actually say he was going to hurt Lion-O."

"But he did say that he knew recipes to eat us," Kit chipped in. "It was the way he walked in. We just knew that he was going to do something bad."

"So all he did was walk in?" she heaved a sigh.

"I know it sounds silly, but you have to believe us. He was up to no good. We know it."

"Listen, you two. I appreciate your concern, but Thundercats don't work that way. We don't harass guests just because of how they look, we judge people by their actions. And right now, you two look like the villains in this mess. Why don't you go find Tygra and see when we're going to meet. I'll help Knave out here." Cheetara took a capsule of solvent, designed for this purpose, from Wily Kat and ushered them out. "I'm so sorry, Knave. They're young, they don't have the patience the rest of us do."

"Don't bother apologizing. When I get free I'm going to teach them to finish a fight." His body shuddered as she worked. It was almost tempting to leave him where he was until he calmed down, but he might hurt himself in the process. Right now helping him would be a sign of trust, and he needed that more than anything.

"Please don't. Let us handle them, they're our responsibility. We'll punish them our way." She touched his cheek, and stared him in the face. She wouldn't admit it openly, but there were times she wanted to reach out and remind him of his mother. He obviously had cared for her, and the glimmer of memory did seem to help.

"Fine. I'll accept your Thunderian justice, because I have to." It was about all she was going to get out of him. She couldn't blame him for being mad, and she would now have to make sure that the kittens did get some sort of punishment. Still, she knew him well enough that his word was his bond, and she could release him without fear.

* * *

Tycho read Knave's report about an hour later. He had been out of the building when the message came in, so Darius helpfully transcribed it. It didn't sound promising. Lion-O injured, fights breaking out. He had known there would be difficulties in this arrangement, but he hadn't expected it to be stronger on the Thunderian side of things. He made a note to contact the Lair and find out if their leader was okay.

* * *

A plan was made; Tygra and the Thundercubs would infiltrate Castle Plundarr and learn what they could of the Mutants' fiendish weapon. There had been heated debate over who should go, each cat feeling the burning desire to see their leader avenged. Ultimately it was Tygra's invisibility that won the argument. The kittens were a separate issue; they were full of unbridled energy, and would only make things worse if they were around the Lair. At least if a combat came about they would have a chance to vent their frustrations at being punished. Tygra could read their faces, they felt like they were right in their opinion of Knave, and he could hardly blame them.

The hybrid wasn't terribly easy to like, despite Tygra's best efforts. He could come across as rude and crass, and yet a lot of that had something to do with his upbringing. Tygra's own childhood had been so much different, a loving family with a network of close friends who supported him, he couldn't relate. But Lion-O was right, this was the kind of step needed in repairing the feelings between the Thunderians and Lunataks.

As Tygra piloted the Hovercat, flanked by the kittens on their space boards, he wondered if there would ever come a day when the Mutants would likewise try and make peace. It was the ideal situation, a world free of conflict and hate, where all races got along. But Tygra was much more practical than that. He knew that creatures of evil would always exist, it was what forced agents of good to keep on their toes. Castle Plundarr had the same effect, especially with the encroaching darkness. Just seeing it made his fur stand on end. Somewhere in there was the answer to their questions. He landed the Hovercat in a small clearing near the forbidding structure and turned to his charges. "Stick to the plan. Wait for my signal and then join me," he reminded them. He winked out of sight and treaded closer to the castle.

* * *

Lura felt a wave of unease pass through her. She understood the concept of revenge, she'd taken some of her own before, but this seemed like poking a sleeping bear with a stick. Mystan wanted revenge on Knave and was willing to risk whatever punishments Tycho could come up with to get it. The other Psion high priests weren't likely to be terribly happy with failure either, and they could impose some very diabolical things too. Lura had heard of people being stripped of their psychic abilities or having their memories painfully erased. There were a million horror stories, most designed to ensure co-operation, and those were just the ones people knew about. There were also too many stories of people up and vanishing entirely.

As she, along with Zanaya and Mystan, took a small cargo ship over the Fire Rock Mountains she couldn't help but wonder what the penalties for herself and Zanaya would be if something went wrong. Sure they were following the orders of a high priest, but if they were part of the reason things went poorly then would they suffer the same fate?

And what if they knew the truth? What if someone found out that she had prevented Zanaya's assassination of Knave? "It's a shame," Zanaya said, jolting Lura out of her thoughts. "We're sneaking in anyway, it would be easy enough to slit his throat. But maybe that brat will have a use after all."

"We tried it your way, remember?" Mystan asked.

"Remember? I've got more scars from his attempts at making love than a career of killing. I've still got excess fat to get rid of from carrying his whelp. And I've got memories of every last agonizing minute I spent in his company. I can still taste the blood when I almost had him," Zanaya snapped. She scowled at her uncle, and for a brief moment Lura wondered if the assassin would be able to stay her hand if the opportunity arose. Zanaya broke the gaze first, picking up a pistol and checking the power pack.

"Watch her," Mystan's voice spoke directly into her head. "If you think she's going to ruin the mission, warn me."

* * *

Castle Plundarr was eerily quiet on the outside, as Tygra walked across the bridge to the main doors. He couldn't just walk in that way, especially since they were barred, but he could climb easily enough, even with his bolo whip wrapped around his body. The walls were damp and reeked of organic waste, no doubt cast out of the windows over his head. A prayer to Jaga that none of the Mutants decided to empty one with him underneath. Slowly he began his ascent, cautiously making sure that every hand and foot was on solid ground before continuing. The progress was labourious, but patience was a virtue.

He wondered how the cubs were doing. Even now they would be waiting at the forest's edge for him to signal them over. It would be risky, but less so if he could guarantee that there were no sentries pointed in their direction. He reached a ledge and poked his head through the open window. Stray banana skins scattered across the floor, and the smell of wet animal permeated the air. A scan of the room revealed that Monkian was not at home. No one seemed to be on patrol on the rooftop either. Quickly Tygra turned visible and waved for the kittens. Soon the pair were racing toward his vantage point and slipped inside.

* * *

"Now where?" Wily Kat asked, wrinkling his nose at the odour. He and his sister, though they'd been reluctant to do so, had tucked their boards under the bed, so that they wouldn't be obvious if Monkian returned.

"Vultureman's lab is higher up in the castle. Let me go first and I'll reconnaissance," Tygra replied, fading away again. Despite having seen him do it a million times before, Wily Kat couldn't help but be impressed by the disappearing act. He had asked Tygra to teach it to him once, but the elder Thundercat said that it was a trick that non-Tigers couldn't do. It was a shame, because Kat figured it would be useful for visiting the Warrior Maiden village.

The halls weren't much better than the bedroom. At least the halls had seen a broom in recent memory, probably at least within the last month, but they smelled of several different kinds of creature. Even though Wily Kat had been inside the Mutants' home before, it astounded him that any creature could live in such filth, it acted as incentive to keep his bedroom neat. "To the right," Tygra's voice whispered. Wily Kit took the lead while Kat fearfully glanced back the other way. Just because Tygra was scouting ahead didn't mean someone might not come up from behind.

* * *

There was nothing but silence. Panthro scanned the monitors, alternating between the internal cameras and the external. Pumyra was examining Lion-O through the protective screen. The Berbils were bringing in the last of the day's crops. Knave was in the gymnasium, beating the stuffing out of a practice dummy. The road to Castle Plundarr was empty, causing him to wonder how the others were doing.

Much as they might like to think that each Thundercat was equally important, Panthro had to concede that Lion-O was a slightly bigger cog in their engine. Lion-O was their leader, the only one who could wield the Sword of Omens, and he was their moral anchor. He could be impetuous sometimes, but his heart was always in the right place. In him there was very little taint of evil, something that he couldn't claim for himself. They needed Lion-O. He did another run through the sensors. It was all he could do for now.

* * *

Tygra's eyes flitted from side to side, watching for any sign of movement. Luckily the Mutants didn't tend to be quiet creatures, but they were equally likely to stumble on one sleeping in the middle of the floor. He almost wished he hadn't brought the cubs along, as his progress could be a lot quicker, but the extra set of eyes would be invaluable when they got to Vultureman's lab. Besides, if a fight broke out he would need all the help he could get.

He peered in through a door and dismissed the room as another crew quarters. This one resembled more of a barracks for a number of Mutants. It didn't seem to have been used in some time. It was very unusual. When the Mutants had first arrived there had been dozens of the creatures. Now there only seemed to be the four. Often he had found himself wondering what had happened to the others, without really wanting to know. There had been plenty of speculation, most of it grisly and ranging from food to foul sacrifices for Mumm-Ra's plans. Either way, they seemed to be gone.

He guided the kittens up a moving staircase to the next floor, hoping that they would find Vultureman's lab soon.

* * *

Duck, roll, slash. Jump, spin, kick. Knave's body moved through the drills fluidly. His father had been determined that his son not embarrass the family, hence the quality education he'd received and the fierce regimen in hand to hand combat. Knave wasn't particularly good at either, but he wasn't horrible. To Nitro's dismay, Knave had a losing record in the arena, though that wasn't exactly his fault. It seemed that the bias against Thunderians, and hybrids in general, brought out the best in his opponents.

He countered an imagined thrust, knocking an invisible blade aside and landed a solid blow on the punching bag's 'chest'. It fascinated him to know that his foul moods always brought his thoughts to his father, a man who had been the source of so much discomfort in his life. And yet there were indelible similarities between the men. "Except that I love my child, regardless of who the mother is," he muttered, taking a precious moment to mop the sweat at his brow. "Krystalin will be raised right."

Or would she? What kind of life was he building for her? She'd changed hands, was torn from a mother who hadn't shown her love and been placed in a home where the father wasn't liked. Where her father was hated and distrusted. Sharp claws pierced the heavy canvas and rent it from top to bottom, wishing that it was the flesh of one of his tormentors. Panthro, Wily Kit or Wily Kat. Other than those three, he might actually enjoy his time here, or at least tolerate it. But with the constant barbs and attacks.

The Thundercats had taken the kittens' side, he wasn't stupid. Even Cheetara said all the right things in front of him. Was she no better than the rest? No, he wouldn't believe that. Cheetara was friendly, she seemed open. If it came down to it she would stand by her kin, as was right, but she would help where she could.

Knave eyed the damage he'd caused and walked over to the bench where Krystalin sat, gazing at her father with adoration in those beautiful eyes. "It's so easy for you," he said, tickling her tummy. "You trust anyone who pays attention to you and feeds you. You haven't had your trust betrayed yet. Oh, I hope you never grow up."

* * *

"Caw! I don't know why a genius like me has to put up with those fools, sometimes," the unmistakable voice of Vultureman filtered through the partially closed door. "They bungle everything. I'm half surprised that none of them got hit by my Bacterium X Blaster. It would serve them right."

Wily Kat wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or bad to hear the Avian's voice. He and his sister kept an uneasy eye on the hallway while Tygra invisibly slipped inside. Seconds later he heard they sound of a scuffle and followed Wily Kit in. Vultureman was on the ground, pinned under Tygra's body with his beak wrapped in Tygra's whip. "Where's the cure for your weapon, Vultureman?" Tygra demanded, jerking the whip slightly.

The garbled words, made difficult to understand through a closed mouth, sounded distinctly like a Plundarrian swear word that Wily Kat had learned one day, and it probably sounded the same to Tygra, as the elder Thundercat fought to control a rising temper. "Wily Kit, get the blaster. If he won't give us the cure for Lion-O's illness, we'll give him a dose to see if that motivates him.

Vultureman's eyes bulged and he struggled under his captor. Wily Kat wasn't sure what the Mutant had said this time, but doubted it was any kind of swearing. In truth, the cub wasn't sure whether Tygra was bluffing or not. He seemed angrier than he'd ever seen him, even more so than the time he and Wily Kit had played marbles throughout Cat's Lair and missed one outside Tygra's bedroom door.

Wily Kit hefted the gun and looked uncertainly from her brother to Vultureman. "I'd do what he says. I think he means it," she said.

There was more garbled cawing, which Tygra seemed to understand as he relaxed a little. "That's much better. Wily Kat, take the green note book off the desk. He says they don't have an antidote here, but it's listed in the book. We're taking the gun too, just in case he's lying." There was more cawing, but it seemed to be of the resigned sort, so he ignore it.

Wily Kat crossed the room and took a thin leathery green notebook, one which reminded him oddly of Slythe's skin, and tucked it into his belt. Then he passed his lariat over to his superior. "We should probably tie him up so that he doesn't try and warn the others," he said.

* * *

Where getting into Castle Plundarr was relatively easy, getting out proved to be much more difficult. No sooner had the trio left Vultureman's lab than they found Slythe and Monkian coming towards them. "Thundercats!" Slythe gasped.

"That's right, lizard lips, now out of our way before we use this gun on you!" Wily Kit said, gesturing with the weapon.

"You're bluffing, Thunderbrat, yes?" the Reptilian leader of the Mutants replied. Despite his bravado, his posture didn't match his words. One foot inched back, seemingly ready to turn and run if it looked like Wily Kit was going to shoot.

Monkian hopped up and down beside his leader, though he appeared equally conflicted. "Yeah, you Thundercats can't use that gun on us; we could die, and Thundercats don't kill."

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it Monkian. How many Thundercats did we get? Lion-O for sure, yes, but what about the others. Maybe Cheetara and Panthro too. The Snarf, I hope." Slythe readied his battle axe.

Damn if they weren't right, Tygra thought to himself as he watched the two Mutants carefully. Both sides were weighing the options, trying to gauge the possible outcomes. Luckily the Mutants of Plundarr weren't known for their intellect, so that gave Tygra a distinct advantage, even with the twitchy trigger fingers of his junior companions. "That's where you're wrong. The Code of Thundera allows us to kill under specific circumstances, revenge for a fallen leader for example. We've already killed Vultureman for inventing this gun." He stepped aside so that the Mutants had a clear view of the laboratory where he, with great difficulty, projected an illusion of Vultureman's bloody corpse.

Without a moment's hesitation Slythe and Monkian ran down the halls, screaming for whatever gods they might believe in. Tygra sagged and leaned against the wall as he let his illusion drop. Even such a small use of his power took a great deal out of him, and he was feeling the strain as it was. They wouldn't have much time before their deception was discovered, or the Mutants found some courage, so they would have to move fairly quickly. "Let's get back to Monkian's room and get your space boards," he said, righting himself and heading back down the stairs.

* * *

Mystan disembarked from the shuttle. They had decided not to get too close to Cat's Lair, to avoid any unwanted attention. The mission would be difficult enough without the Thundercats' interference in the matter. And the longer it took for them to realize they had visitors the better. He stared at Lura, wondering if she would be able to pull off her part of the job. She was distracted, which wouldn't help her focus. She didn't have the discipline he did yet, to convert emotions into power, despite her training. It was, perhaps, a failing of his that he had not succeeded. But would that distraction be enough to affect the mission?

A solid hour's walk took them within visual distance of the imposing fortress, and it was here that the work began. Lura settled against a tree and cast her mind towards the Lair, while Mystan and Zanaya began their part of the job. One last glance at Lura, more to make sure she was getting ready than out of any real modesty, and Mystan shed his heavy robes. Zanaya had insisted that he wear the black camouflage gear to help him blend in with the shadows. With the sun having just set, he would be fine. He wasn't used to wearing such form fitting clothes, though. Psions preferred to wear loose clothes, adapted for their warm desert moon.

His niece was applying the black face paint to herself with the help of a small hand mirror, before moving over to do the same to him. It made sense, even if the Thundercats figured out that there was an intruder, they wouldn't know who it was, which might buy them some leeway with Tycho should he find out. "Okay, I'm ready," Lura said.

* * *

Lura had once tried to explain to a non-Psion what it was like to try and find a mind, and found that it was like standing in the middle of the desert looking for a rock. If one knew where the rock was, one could walk straight to it and collect it, which is why it was always easy to locate thoughts if the person was in sight. Looking for someone you knew well was like looking for a boulder jutting out of the ground; you might have to hunt around a bit, but it was obvious when you were close. When you didn't know either the person or the location it was like digging for buried treasure. Luckily her skill at it gave her a bit of an edge at the game. She knew someone would be in the command centre of Cat's Lair and just had to whittle through the options.

It was Panthro, as it turned out, and his mind told her where everyone else was. "We're in luck," she said aloud, careful not to dislodge her psychic connection with the Thundercat. "Half the Thundercats aren't here, and Lion-O seems to be sick, maybe dying. Krystalin is in the gymnasium with Knave."

"Excellent. Keep monitoring Panthro. Make sure he never looks in a camera pointed in our direction," Mystan said.

She nodded, creating a second link, this one with Zanaya. She was the one to focus on, she was the one who might jeopardize the mission. Though Lura was fully capable of multi-tasking, she needed to maintain as few links as possible to reduce the risk of the Thundercats learning of her presence in their heads, so the decision had been made to link with only one of Zanaya and Mystan. Once the pair got close enough to Cat's Lair that the possibly would arise of meeting a Thundercat Lura would need to keep tabs on where everyone else was, which meant small links with at least three others. Her head would be pounding for a day after all this, but it would be worth it, wouldn't it?

"Of course it will," Zanaya's mind, connected through the link, snapped.

"I know. Some doubt is normal," Lura sent, cursing herself for having forgotten that her link with the assassin was much more fluid, and thus allowed for a greater flow of information both ways. She double checked on Panthro's movements. He was still looking at the cameras, only not as frequently now. His mind was wandering to potential modifications they could make to the defences.

* * *

"That was awesome, Tygra," Wily Kat said, flying his board alongside the Hovercat. "The way you showed the Mutants who's boss." It was difficult to hear the excited youth over the whirr of his engine, but he certainly caught most of it.

"Were you really going to shoot the Mutants?" Wily Kit asked.

Both gun and book were stashed in the back of the Hovercat now, safe from being accidentally dropped into the forest below. He tried not to make eye contact with Kit. "Of course not. Thundercats don't kill." And yet he didn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth. He couldn't be sure about that. Thundercats weren't supposed to kill, but he'd been honest in what he said to Slythe. There were exceptions to the rule, if very strict. He liked the Lord of the Thundercats; Lion-O was more than just a student, and even more than a friend, he was family in a universe where the number of known Thunderians could be counted on two hands.

When he had seen Lion-O fall like that, a victim of this Bacterium X, he had felt an unfamiliar surge of anger towards the Mutants, something stronger than he'd felt when his own life had been in the hands of those same creatures. There was just enough of a spark of decency in him that he didn't think he would turn the gun loose on Slythe and Monkian, but then he thought back on his convincing illusion. That image of Vultureman's mutilated corpse had been plucked from his own subconscious mind, and that frightened him more than a little.

At least once they deciphered Vultureman's notes they would be able to rescue Lion-O and things could begin to get back to normal.

* * *

There was a track in the gymnasium, pitifully small, but it served its purpose. Knave jogged along it, unable to hit his top stride but relishing the feel anyway. Pumyra had dropped in moments ago and had made a very unladylike comment in his direction before abandoning the thought of a quick workout before bed. He wondered what the issue with her was. Experience told him that the two people you didn't want to offend were your doctor and your cook. Though at least he was assured that it was probably against the code of Thundera for her to do him any harm.

Not that he cared what the puma specifically thought of him. His only interest in her was a curiosity in how his speed matched against hers. Well, that and the voice inside that wondered how she tasted. Of all the Thunderian species that had landed on the Ice Moon none had been pumas, denying him the experience.

With the jog done he scooped Krystalin up into his arms. "I know," he teased her as she began to wriggle a little, "daddy smells, but I can't leave you out here while I shower." He carefully laid her on a bench just visible from the shower stall and got it ready.

* * *

Mystan levitated himself and Zanaya to a window near the foot of Cat's Lair. It was their second attempt as their first choice had been locked. Luckily this one was open, and the room beyond was vacant. A work shop, from what he could tell. There were tools and half finished projects scattered all over. None of it seemed remarkable to him, so he slipped into the room.

"We're getting the all clear," Zanaya said in a low voice. Just because they knew where all the Cat's Lair occupants were didn't mean there wasn't still a risk of detection. He didn't like skulking about, it seemed inefficient to him. Skulduggery was something he left to others, but this job required his own hands.

Zanaya took the lead, opening the door and slipping into the hall. She glanced uneasily at a camera in the corner of the ceiling, but Mystan had greater faith. Lura might not be quite as ruthless as he would like, but she knew her duty and was very good at her job. She wouldn't fail him, unlike his niece who had now failed to complete an assassination four times to his knowledge.

They had debated extensively whether to wait for him in his bedroom or to go him. Certainly since the bedroom had windows, it might be easier, but there was a time factor. If Tycho found that the three of them were missing, he might start to ask questions.

* * *

Lura fought violently against her mind, separating the part that was transmitting her thoughts to Zanaya from her conscious mind. She had made the mistake of seeing where Knave was and found him completely undressed in the shower. She would consider her body's reactions later. Now was not the time.

Especially when a slip of concentration could prove disastrous. Not only might she accidentally alert the Thundercats to her presence in their heads, but she might lose her consciousness too. Every first year telepath heard the horror stories, brilliant telepaths who lost their hold on their identity and whose consciousness dissipated into the ether. "Knave is still in the gym. He's in the shower, so he'll be moving soon," she informed Zanaya, feeling a shudder of revulsion tremble up through their link. "Pumyra's going to be heading down the hall in about two minutes, you're going to want to find cover."

Her mind cycled rapidly through the Lair's occupants, Lion-O, Panthro and on. They were all more or less stationary, making life a little easier, but Pumyra and Cheetara were in the halls. In fact, it seemed as though Cheetara was heading to the gym too, looking for Knave. She relayed this information to Zanaya and Mystan.

* * *

"Knave?" Cheetara called out, entering the gym. She saw him emerge from the showers, wearing his pants but still towelling off his hair. She felt a strange surge of emotion in the back of her head. Affection? Certainly she did feel some affection, towards him but nothing like what she had just experienced. The feeling was so fleeting that she ignored it. "I just came to see how you were doing."

He ducked back into the showers to collect Krystalin and settled on a weight bench. "I've felt better. I don't know how well this experiment is going to work, though. Between those..." he cut himself off, and she could fill in the blanks. His opinions of Panthro and the kittens were no secret. "Between them and my own feelings. It's hard to wrap my mind from Thunderians being prey to being allies."

She placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, but she left it there anyway. So the education ran deep. Thunderians were food or playthings in Lunar society, she knew, and not for the first time did she wonder how that meant he'd been treated. "It's hard for us too. We've been fighting the Lunataks for years, and none of that is going to change overnight. The important thing is that we're trying to change it. There is good in you, and we want to foster peace between Thundercat and Lunatak. It can happen, I know it."

Dimly Cheetara thought she heard the door open and close, but decided to ignore it. It was probably just someone walking by and accidentally setting off the sensor. "And what about me? How do I change the way I think, the way I feel? I don't like hating."

"You don't hate everyone," she pointed out. He stared at her for a long moment, and then back down to Krystalin, and she smiled warmly. "See? You love Krystalin, and I don't believe you hate me either."

"I don't," he agreed. He kissed her so suddenly that she was caught off guard by it. She pulled back, seeing the confusion in his face. A feeling of dread and sadness washed over her. He didn't hate her, he loved her, and it would break his heart to find that she didn't feel the same way. It would take delicacy.

"Knave, I'm sorry," she began.

"Don't be. It was stupid of me to think you could ever love a Lunatak," he turned away from her, and she could see his whole body tensing. Knave didn't handle negative emotions well, she knew, and she feared for Krystalin in an instance like this.

Cheetara walked around him and knelt so that they were eye to eye again. "It's not that at all. I care about you, because I see so much promise in you. And admittedly it's been years since I've seen another cheetah, but the love I feel for you is as a kinsman, nothing romantic. Besides, there's Lion-O..."

* * *

Lura watched the exchange with growing frustration, her grasp on her power was slipping. She felt bad for Knave. Forcibly she returned her focus to her connection with Zanaya and saw Mystan sitting in the showers, eyes closed in concentration. It had been a difficult trick to sneak them past the two, but it was worth it. The showers were just close enough that Mystan should be able to do his work. She hoped so, anyway.

She resumed her scans. Pumyra had indeed gone to bed. The Snarf was double checking things in the kitchen. Panthro was looking bored at a monitor pointed at the front entrance. Zanaya was slowly leaving the showers, weapon drawn. Realization struck like thunder.

* * *

"Knave!" The signal word blared through Panthro's skull and he instinctively switched to the gym's camera. The hybrid was sitting close to Cheetara. Knave stood suddenly, claws bared and Panthro hit the security device's built in control, sending electricity arcing through his body. He tumbled to the ground with a grunt. Panthro hurried down to the gym to secure him further.

* * *

Cheetara didn't know what to make of it all. One moment she had been trying to comfort Knave, and the next his name had blared through her skull. Wherever the strange voice had come from her companion had clearly heard it too. He stood, claws extended, scenting the air. Then he dropped like a stone. Cheetara caught little Krystalin before she could fall and scanned the room. There was something amiss, a scent she had never smelled, or couldn't remember. The room was silent apart from her breathing and Krystalin's whimper.

She heard a faint rasp of metal on metal and stared in the direction she'd heard it. For half a second she thought she saw the image of a woman dressed entirely in black, but then it was gone. The woman was moving towards Knave and very suddenly a few pieces of the puzzle came together. Knave had mentioned Krystalin's mother, a Psion with some camouflage abilities. She had tried to kill him before he'd come to the Thundercats, and was doubtless about to try again.

Extending her bo staff in one fluid motion, Cheetara charged through the space she had seen the intruder, staff flailing wildly at intense speeds. She stopped before she hit the wall and turned sharply. Had she imagined it? Was her sixth sense playing tricks on her? No, she had been down this road before and proven herself more than capable. She concentrated and tried to see what wasn't there. The woman flickered again. She had obviously moved off to the side before Cheetara's sprint and was now much closer to her quarry. "Stop right there, Zanaya," she said, closing the gap. This time her staff connected with something solid and a rack of barbells quivered.

The assassin didn't say a word, which was annoying to Cheetara. She was either out cold or moving again. Her sixth sense was strong, but it worked better against things aimed directly at her. She caught the faint smell again and twisted to the side, pain blossoming across her right arm as a thin river of blood began to flow. With all the speed she could muster she swung her staff again, missing.

Obviously this was going to take a different tactic. Cheetara was effectively fighting blind against the assassin and she needed to even the odds. Sprinting across the room, Cheetara hit the light switch, plunging the gymnasium into darkness.

"Poor little Thundercat," Zanaya spoke softly. Her voice was the same almost hypnotic voice that all Psions seemed to possess. "I've trained to fight in the dark. I'm betting you haven't."

She was right. Thundercats relied on light to guide them, but a Thunderian had more than just one sense. Now that she knew what she was looking for, Cheetara's nose pointed her to her left. It wasn't perfect, but it gave her a general idea of where to look. "You can't win," she said, hoping that she was right. Her arm was throbbing from the knife Zanaya had been wielding, and she prayed to Jaga that the assassin hadn't laced it with some kind of poison.

"Wanna bet?" The voice came from very near and pain exploded in her skull. Something heavy, one of the barbells she was guessing, had made contact. Cheetara slumped to the floor, vainly trying to stay conscious. Dimly she heard a belch.

* * *

Mystan drew back into his body, aware that there was some kind of commotion going on outside the showers. His clothes were damp from Knave's wet footprints, and the room was pitch black. What had his niece gotten him into this time? "Sorry, master. It was my fault," Lura's voice chimed in his head. He glowered, certain that his irritation would be transmitted. He would worry about her infraction later. He fumbled for the doorway and heard a burp followed by a litany of curses.

"Situation," he snapped, along his telepathic link.

"Cheetara is unconscious. Knave is unconscious. Zanaya is covered in ice?" Lura faltered, confused.

"That means my work was successful," he responded, his mind grasping the implications. He had removed the mental block that prohibited Krystalin's powers. Her passing of gas had no doubt managed to throw a stream of ice around her mother. It certainly sounded like the type of co-incidental behaviour that he would expect from a vengeful goddess. He followed along the wall, searching for a light switch until the door opened, revealing Panthro and Snarf. The former turned on the light and locked eyes with Zanaya.

Now that there was light, Mystan could see clearly the gym and take stock of things. His niece held a bloodied barbell in one hand, though both hands and legs were now covered in a thin coating of ice, which she was working on extricating herself from. She stood over Cheetara, who was clearly bleeding from both the head and arm. She would likely die if she wasn't given medical attention soon, and that would benefit his plans.

"Lunataks!" Panthro snarled, drawing out his nunchakus.

Mystan didn't have the energy for anything fancy. His manipulation of Krystalin's mind had taken more out of him than he'd care to admit, but it would be sufficient for his needs. He telekinetically grabbed both Panthro and Snarf and shoved them to one side. "You have no chance against me. I could crush you like an insect if I chose, but you are beneath my notice. My assistant and I will be leaving now and you won't follow us. Besides, you have more pressing concerns, panther. Cheetara will die if you waste time, and you will die too if you follow us."

Panthro growled, but they both knew that Mystan was right. They would have an easy time getting out of Cat's Lair without being pursued. As he caught sight of Zanaya's guilty expression he wondered if he would find it as easy to get out of Tycho's wrath.

* * *

Seeing the Lunataks crossing the bridge, fleeing back into the forest, filled Tygra with a certain fear. What had happened? The Lair had been relatively undefended, and two Lunataks could have posed a problem. He considered briefly asking the kittens to go on ahead without him while he followed, but decided that the odds would be even worse then. No. His first priority was to determine the state of his friends and worry about the invaders later.

He didn't like it, though. Memories of a similar incident, one that had led to the destruction of Cat's Lair, flashed through his mind. He, Lion-O and Panthro had been ambushed by the Lunataks. The other two were taken captive, but he had fallen in the moat. The Lunataks had swung around with their warship and taken several shots at the Lair. Was this a reprisal? Could he expect to turn and see a warship?

Landing next to the Lair he followed Wily Kit and Kat into the building and heard all sorts of commotion from the lower levels. Snarf came barrelling by carrying towels, and he skidded to a stop when he saw the trio. "Hurry! Snarf, snarf, Cheetara's dying!"


	4. Chapter 4

Truth, Justice, Honour and Loyalty by Jonathan J. Prideaux  
Chapter 4

It was a dream. Knave recognized it as such, but felt powerless to do anything to control it. He stood in his father's office as he had so many years ago, his mother encased in ice beside him. His father held his tiny childlike hand, to force him to kill his own mother. He remembered the day vividly; she had wanted to take her young son away from the harsh climate and cruel people of the Ice Moon, but she had been caught, as she had on a number of other occasions. Her penalty was death, his was to carry out the sentence.

Only now it wasn't his father holding that hand, it was Zanaya now, laughing maniacally at him. "You think you can escape me? Ha! For that, Cheetara will die." His eyes widened and he looked to his mother, except she wasn't his mother. The resemblance was uncanny, but now he could see that it was the Thundercat woman, the same woman he'd pledged his love to. She was getting closer, Zanaya's hand pulling his icepick inexorably closer. The tip pressed into Cheetara's tender flesh and then rammed forward. Cheetara's scream matched his own.

* * *

Knave woke with a start. It was morning and the events of the previous night rushed back at him. Though Cheetara was expected to live, she had been dealt a severe blow by that Psion. Would he never be rid of her? Would he forever be looking over his shoulder, waiting for her knife in his back? Krystalin began crying softly, so he went and picked her up. He should be angry at her too. The child was half the reason Zanaya was so upset at him. Oh, certainly there was wounded pride in there; the target she couldn't kill, but the fact that he had mated with her and produced a child was a fair chunk.

He had thought he was safe here. The hatred of the Thundercats he could deal with. Cheetara was right, trust wouldn't be built overnight, but the Lunataks and that woman especially should have been far away. That was Tycho's hidden agenda.

What happened next? His choices seemed simple enough. Stay with the Thundercats, endure the loathing even though his two biggest supporters were in the infirmary, or go back to Tycho, project failed. Neither option left a good taste in his mouth. Nor, he thought with a hint of a smile, could his fur leave a good taste in Krystalin's. He walked to the mini fridge he'd been provided and selected a bottle for her.

* * *

"So, what do we do next?" Zanaya asked. She, along with Mystan and Lura, had arrived back at the city and were trying to gauge whether anyone knew about their mission in Cat's Lair. On the one hand Mystan had successfully removed the psychic block, preventing Krystalin from using her powers, on the other hand the Thundercats had seen them. Though it was the first place anyone would look for them, they stopped in their quarters. It would be obvious that something was up if they were in hiding.

The entire journey had occurred in silence, and Lura bemoaned the loss of solitude. Questions would lead to more questions and she was instrumental in the failure. She had been distracted, hadn't noticed Zanaya sneaking off and, indeed, had managed to alert the Thundercats. She flinched as Mystan's eyes met hers briefly. He was furious, trying desperately to keep his emotions in check. "What do we do next?" he repeated, "I should send you both to into the sun. You ruined my plans. You couldn't keep your own petty desire for revenge in check, you had to see him dead at your own hands. You're a pitiful excuse for an assassin, unable to kill anyone from what I've seen." Zanaya balked, though she sensibly didn't say anything. Currently Mystan was a high priest, and the gods didn't deal fairly with people who offended their clergy. Mystan was also one of the most powerful telekinetics alive and Zanaya would be dead before she could finish the thought.

For an instant Lura was sure that Mystan would strike his niece, but the blow never came. If she believed that she was being spared, however, she was proven wrong. Mystan's attention whirled to her. "And you. I give you one simple task, keep an eye on Zanaya and you failed. And why is that?" she didn't answer. She feared the answer. Obviously he didn't know, as seconds later she felt her mind being torn apart. Valiantly she fought him off as best she could using the tricks he'd taught, but he gleaned enough. Suddenly she found it difficult to breathe and she clawed at the phantom hands around her throat.

"Master?" she choked out. She didn't need to look to Zanaya. There would be no help from her, especially once the truth was out.

"You love him?" The words were filled with such venom as she'd never heard before. She saw an incredulous look on the assassin's face. "You love that bastard? How long have you been against me? I am your master. You belong to me until the council releases you. How dare you betray me." She rose off the ground and was propelled in to the back wall, knocking over the couch as she went. "Am I forever doomed to have everyone I know want to sleep with that half-breed? Am I so cursed as to have that wretch in every facet of my life?"

He released his hold on her, but she didn't dare move. Instead she tried to regain her wits, marshal her mental defences in case of a renewed attack. "I am going to speak with the council about what has happened here. We will decide your fate." Mystan crossed to his bedroom and slammed the door.

Zanaya crouched down in front of her. "You love him? You wouldn't last the night in his bed. If Mystan doesn't kill you, I will."

* * *

Tygra closed the little green notebook again and placed it on his desk. Beside it was a slip of paper, covered in his meticulous handwriting. Deciphering Vultureman's notes wasn't terribly easy, but with some patience he felt certain that he had everything. He folded the slip and placed it in a pocket, hoping that it all worked out. Why were things going so poorly? Two Thundercats down, a houseguest who seemed to be at war with everyone else, and him thrust into a leadership role that he really didn't want.

At least he could help some of the tension. Much like Lion-O had a while back, he planned on taking Knave with him to make him feel part of the team, and to keep him from irritating the others. He didn't really trust the hybrid Lunatak, years of conflict against their kind were hard to ignore, but he did feel a fair amount of pity. "And we're not doing much to help," he thought ruefully. With an even cadence, Tygra walked down the hall to Knave's room and was about to knock when he heard voices inside. His heart leapt to his throat as he heard Panthro within.

Deciding that eavesdropping wouldn't be polite, he rapped firmly on the door. It slid open and Panthro stepped out. "Everything okay?" Tygra asked Knave once the door was shut again.

"Maybe. I think the world is going to end. I actually got an apology out of him," he replied. Knave had clearly been changing a diaper, as the room smelled of waste. There was also a thin sheen of ice on one wall. He made a mental note to contact the Lunataks about both the incident and to see what could be done. He wasn't sure if he really wanted their help, but they didn't have much choice. An infant who could breathe ice at will was a danger to everyone, including herself. Or was this part of the reason they'd sent Knave? No, that was thinking the same way as Panthro and was counterproductive.

"So the two of you are getting along now?" Tygra asked, somewhat hopeful. If Knave had been as sarcastic with Panthro as he was now then he doubted that was likely. Based on the incredulous look Knave shot him he knew his suspicions were correct. "It's a start. Anyway, I came to see if you'd like to help me this morning. Nothing fancy, plant samples mostly, but it's dangerous territory and an extra set of eyes would be nice."

"Is this an excuse to get me out of the Lair? I might as well."

Tygra recalled Lion-O telling him about a similar conversation he'd had before... he shook the thought from his head. "Truthfully, yes. I know how uncomfortable the others are around you. And with Cheetara and Lion-O out of commission short term, it might be best."

"And I don't make you uncomfortable?" Knave walked over and circled the architect, a wide grin plastered on his face. "Back on the Ice Moon, Thunderian was a favourite dish of the upper class. I know many dishes that could be made from you."

Tygra recognized the posturing for what it was and tried not to shrink back. He couldn't help but feel a little intimidated though. "Yes, you do. But it's in the best interest of the Thundercats to gain the Lunataks as allies."

"Good. I like honesty in you Thundercats, it reminds me of my own people. And that's why it would be a waste to use you as a food source. Let's get going then. I suppose Krystalin should stay behind." Tygra saw the hybrid's muscles go slack and knew that he had passed some kind of test. He brought up a good point too. An infant like that was a risk under the best of circumstances, but their collecting would take them close to Castle Plundarr where she would become a major liability.

"I'll ask Snarf to take care of her. She'll be fine."

* * *

Mystan's head throbbed already, and it was only going to get worse. He had been granted, as part of his status, a specially designed box that contained psychic energy. Long ago, the Psions had learned to harness the power of those who had died, collecting residual psychic energy from the brain and storing it in batteries. By using one a Psion could augment their powers a hundredfold. Mystan had used this one twice now, hurling his spirit across the cosmos to his home moon. A trek that took a week by ship took an hour travelling in this way.

It took a lot out of him, but the time and effort helped cool his anger too. By the time he arrived in the council room he was calm. Only a single acolyte was around, to his aggravation. This one, a young woman, hurried off immediately upon sensing him which was good, because he didn't know how long he would be able to hold his form here. Minutes later Toran, the highest of the priests, joined his mind with Mystan's.

* * *

They started with a few of the simple ones. Crushed swamp moss, an ounce of sponge fog, a few drops of liquid from Acid Lake. None of the ingredients posed any difficulty yet, but both Knave and Tygra knew that could change. Even though he had only been on the planet about a year, Knave knew that Third Earth was fraught with peril. If the creatures walking on it didn't get you, the land itself would. Looking at the vial from Acid Lake was proof of that, an entire lake that somehow contained a potent acid that dissolved anything it touched, and yet it was dotted with delicious fruit trees on its banks. It just didn't make sense. "The skin from a Mungen snake," Tygra said aloud, crossing the liquid off his list.

"And where do we find that?"

"They typically can be found near Castle Plundarr. Probably how Vultureman found them." Tygra shifted the tank into a different gear and revved the engine. There was hope for a conflict, then. The giants who lived near the sponge fog hadn't noticed them, and the rest of the denizens seemed to be disinclined to threaten the Thundertank. It almost made the trip boring. The Mutants, at least, weren't as likely to be obliging.

"I want to apologize," Knave said at length, "you've been decent to me. I shouldn't have mentioned our culinary habits." He wasn't used to feeling guilty, but the tiger was the last of his allies within the Thundercats.

"I know you're trying to adapt, and it's appreciated. Maybe when Lion-O recovers we can try and talk to Tycho about freeing our countrymen."

"It's not Tycho's call, I bet. It'll be Luna." Knave left it unspoken that Luna was far less likely to release prisoners without exacting a heavy price. He didn't really want to know what the price would be.

"Doesn't hurt to try."

* * *

Lura watched the two bedroom doors with apprehension. Any minute now one or the other could open, bringing judgement and possibly death. She had led a good life, thus far. She'd known moments of happiness. She had few friends, but a very loving family. They had given her up to the temple when her talents became obvious. They'd never once forgotten a birthday though, and always managed to scrape together some kind of present. She wondered how they would feel when her brain was brought back to the Psion Moon. How sad would they be?

There was no noise from Mystan's room, which suggested that he was still in communion with the elders back home. There was a dull rasping noise from Zanaya's, a woman intentionally sharpening weapons to unnerve her.

It was working. With Zanaya at least she had a chance. Lura could enter the assassin's mind at the speed of thought and shut down her mental processes; it was the part of the telepath that people neglected. Mystan would have a myriad of defences built up around his mind, and they would provide him with time to use his powers. Among the disciplines, telepathy was the easiest to defend against. A telekinetic didn't have to target a person, he could just as easily grab the couch and throw it at her as grabbing Lura herself.

After four hours of waiting, Mystan's door finally opened. "Get Zanaya," he said simply.

* * *

Tygra generally loved the jungle, some primal memory he had once suspected, but the jungles around Castle Plundarr weren't pleasant. They stank of rot and decay, the residual trace of the castle's occupants. If evil had a smell, this was it.

A quick glance at his companion reminded him that he wasn't the only one suffering. The Ice Lunatak hybrid was sweating profusely in the heat, causing Tygra to feel more than a little pity for him. "We're looking for a red and green snake, normally about three feet long. They're not poisonous, but there's a similar species around that is. It has purple spots on its head," he explained. Knave nodded and the two slowly walked around the brush.

Tygra stepped around a rotting deer carcass and examined a small rock. The Mungen snakes liked such rocks, but not this one apparently. Perhaps the carcass was throwing them off. There was so much about the fauna and animal life that they didn't know about to be sure.

A family of beetles scurried for other cover as he rolled a log aside, and high up in a tree some birds squawked at him for interrupting their lunch. Still no luck, which was frustrating. He was about to suggest trying another spot when he heard a cry, followed by a crash. Tygra's whip was out in a hurry, his feet crossing the gap between himself and Knave in seconds. He found him at the bottom of a deep pit, narrowly having missed a collection of spikes. "I found one of your snakes," Knave called, scooping up one that had fallen in with him. "You said they weren't poisonous, right?"

"That's right." Scarcely were the words out of his mouth than Knave had bitten the head off. The hybrid stared at the snake as it went through its death throes, finally going still. A shudder went up Tygra's spine, seeing the look of rapture on Knave's face. Maybe Panthro was right, a niggling voice at the back of his head whispered. He discounted the notion, they all had their quirks. None were as disturbing as that, but nonetheless... "Let's see about getting you out of there."

"Hoo, I don't think so, Tygra!" Monkian chuckled, jumping down from a tree branch behind him. "Normally that trap is for catching dinner, but catching bait is just as good."

Tygra whirled his whip around his body, vanishing in a flash of light. He didn't want a prolonged fight, especially with Knave helpless in the pit. Luckily Tygra had two advantages over the simian; brains and invisibility. Predictably, no sooner had he faded from sight than Monkian fired a pair of cannonballs from his shield. The thing had caused much conversation on Mutant technology, and he and Panthro often spoke of capturing it and figuring out where the cannonballs were stored.

"That's not fair. Come out and fight me man to man," Monkian shouted. He was firing blindly now, one cannonball denting the side of the Thundertank. Tygra clambered up a tree to get a better vantage point, and to stay out of the way of most of the wild shots.

"Help me out of here, I'll catch that Thundercat for you," Knave shouted from the pit. Tygra's heart sank. The Lunatak was playing his gambit now? But then, the hybrid couldn't see the invisible, could he?

"A Lunatak? Heh, you're in for it now Tygra. Two against one." Monkian chuckled to himself and uncoiled a length of rope down to the base of the pit. Now Tygra was torn. The odds weren't very good, but he didn't really want to leave the Thundertank in the hands of those vile creatures. Who knew what kind of technology they might glean from it.

If he could incapacitate Monkian, his bolo whip's fireballs should be able to take out Knave. Years of fighting against Chilla showed that fire was a deadly weapon against the Icewalkers. It wasn't so nice to non-Icewalkers either, if it came to that. He removed the whip from around his person and activated the fire control in the handle.

He didn't need to do any more, as it turned out. As soon as Knave had a solid purchase at the top of the pit, he pushed Monkian in. There was a loud cry of pain, and Tygra ran to the side. Even though Monkian had twisted to avoid hitting the spikes, one had shorn a solid chunk out of his calf and thigh. Blood was flowing from the wound, as the simian thrashed about in pain. Most disconcerting of all was the joyous look had returned to Knave's face, watching with sadistic glee. "There's a first aid kit in the Tank," he murmured to himself. He sprinted over and, within seconds, was climbing down the rope to assist the Mutant. Gratefully, Monkian seemed content to accept the ministrations without protest or violence.

"You know he wouldn't be helping you, right? Heck, I bet even his friends wouldn't be doing that." Knave was crouched, peering over the side.

"You're right. But Tygra wouldn't have pushed me in here," Monkian scowled, doubtless still bitter about the doublecross as well.

Once he'd finished his doctoring, Tygra clambered out of the pit as quickly as he could before Monkian could think to thank him for his hospitality. He left the rope there, knowing that with his injured leg it would take him a while to get out, and by then Tygra intended to be on the way back to Cat's Lair. The events had disturbed him greatly, and he needed to think about it some more.

* * *

Lura watched both people warily from the couch. There wasn't much point in moving, whatever was going to happen was going to happen. Zanaya was resting one hand on the pistol at her hip, standing against the wall. Even without her powers Lura knew what the woman was thinking, she was hoping for permission to kill. It was a distinct possibility. The price for disobeying a high priest could be death, and the price for failure in general wasn't much better. Mystan was harder to read, but then he'd always been so. Years of discarding his emotions for the sake of logic showed clearly on his impassive face. She thought she detected a faint hint of emotion in him. Fear, perhaps, or sadness. That wasn't good. When the emotions started slipping through the mask of calm it boded ill.

He had every right to feel either emotion. The council might well have punished him, in addition to whatever Tycho or Luna would throw at him. Mystan walked between the two women and closed his eyes for just a half second. "I have been in communion with the elders, and they have spoken. They are not pleased with what has happened here. I am being summoned back to the Psion Moon for further punishment. I might as well tell you, because you are bound to find out through the rumour mill. They intend on stripping me of my powers until I prove that I deserve them."

Both she and Zanaya gasped. For someone of his talent, being stripped of his telekinesis was akin to losing a limb or two. It was horrifying, and yet the fact that he was going along with it spoke to the certainty that it would only be temporary. Mystan had confidence in himself, he didn't always use his abilities in his daily life, and certainly intended to adapt to his circumstances. If there was anyone who could do it seamlessly, it was him.

If that was his price, the thought rushed to her head unbidden, what was hers? As though reading her mind, and perhaps he had, Mystan continued. "The council is equally displeased with the two of you. One of you are to serve as an example to others as to the price of failure. My final act as high priest is to decide which of you can be saved. That one will remain here on Third Earth and serve my replacement. The other is to be killed, immediately."

Lura gulped. There was still a stain on the carpet from Extroc's execution, though the body had been removed. So this was it then. She would die. Zanaya was family, and she knew that her master, former master now, valued his family. She wouldn't make it easy for him. If he wanted to kill her, he would have to work for it. Perhaps the strain of the long range communication had worn him out. Her mind lashed out, bursting into his head with ease. It was as though he had intentionally lowered all his psionic defences. Was he that worn out that he couldn't maintain them, or...

A scream brought her back to her own body. Zanaya convulsed on the floor, clutching her chest, begging. The assassin's eyes were widened, and Lura knew that the pain must have been excruciating. Finally the screaming stopped, the body ceased moving and she knew that the woman was dead. Mystan stumbled and she barely managed to catch him and ease him onto the couch. "Make sure she's dead," he said.

Carefully, Lura touched her mind to Zanaya's. A stopped pulse might be faked, but the absence of brain activity spoke the truth. "Why her? Why not me?" She needed to know, even if she was relieved.

"We were, all of us, blinded by emotion. It's a failing of us mortals, one I thought I had rid myself of. Zanaya was fuelled by hatred. She could not control it, it dominated her every waking moment. She would never stop until either she or Knave lay dead. You have been tainted by love." Mystan's voice trailed off, as though trying to remember the emotion himself. "Love can be gotten over, and it is something you will get over. My shuttle won't arrive for another three days. Until that time, I am still your superior. I made a suggestion to the council and they agreed with me. Today you are going to go to Cat's Lair yourself to deliver to Knave the news on Zanaya's death. While there you will profess your love for him. Only once he has rejected you can your redemption begin."

A chill ran down her spine. There was an unspoken threat in his words. Her life had been spared, but that could change in an instant. She had seen Zanaya's death, she knew that the crushed heart had been a subtle message to her. Was her will strong enough to do as she had been commanded? Would the Thundercats even be willing to see her, given what Zanaya and Mystan had just done? "Yes master. Thank you."

* * *

Knave felt immense relief when they got back to Cat's Lair. His first order of business was to track down Snarf and collect Krystalin. They were in the kitchen, which didn't surprise him very much. There had been very little chance that Snarf would take care of her in his bedroom, given some of the souvenirs. "And then Lion-O said 'Let's find the megacondenser...' Oh hello Knave, I was just telling Krystalin about some of our adventures, snarf, snarf." He was rocking her awkwardly in his arms.

A quick scan of the room showed, miraculously, no ice damage. "I hope you put a good spin on us Lunataks, wouldn't want Thunderian propaganda after all." He said it with a smirk, showing that there was little malice behind his words. He felt strangely at peace, it was a strange sensation that had come over him on the ride back.

"I'll have you know that this story is about the Mutants," the Snarf replied with a huff. He handed the child back to her father.

"In that case, slander all you want."

* * *

Tygra's first stop was the laboratory, where he predictably found Pumyra working with the Bacterium X Blaster. Like most of Vultureman's inventions it was simple to use and had a ridiculous name. This just meant that proving whether or not the materials Tygra had brought worked would be a simple matter. "To bad you didn't leave Knave in that pit too," Pumyra muttered, as he related the encounter with Monkian. It was a curious response, and it caught him off-guard for a moment. She didn't elaborate and went to work on a cure.

He walked back outside and sat on the steps, his mind in a whirl. Knave's disturbing behaviour was one thing, it was almost expected from a Lunatak, but Pumyra's was jarring. The Thundercats had always preached justice and honour, loyalty and truth. Such a response was almost impossible to fathom. And yet, how much did he really know about the woman? She had been a healer of some sort back on Thundera, been close friends with Bengali and Lynx-O, and then they had crashed here. He knew plenty about her, but almost nothing of her time before the explosion of Thundera.

Which meant what, exactly? She was entitled to her privacy, Jaga knew that they all kept some kind of secret. Her privacy was there in the code, somewhere between honour and truth. They trusted her not to keep anything from them that they needed to know, and the rest was hers to dispense with at will.

Flashes of his own childhood appeared. That dreaded incident with the high school bullies that had scarred his psyche. He should have died that day, drowned in the swimming pool, but had been spared at the last second. And over what? Because he wouldn't help them cheat on a test. He'd been terrified of water ever since, only his invisibility allowed him enough confidence to shove the terror aside. He'd told Panthro about it once, after some prodding, and the panther had been kind enough to keep it a secret.

Was something similar what made Pumyra act that way? Had she met the Lunataks before her arrival on Third Earth? Or was it Knave specifically. There had been a clan of white cheetahs in the western plains, if he recalled. Either way, it was her call on whether to open up or not, and he would respect it.

* * *

This was not happening. It could not be happening. Tycho stared hard at the screen almost willing the panther to say it was all a joke. Moments ago Chillaura had informed him of an incoming transmission from Cat's Lair and he had received it in his office, expecting perhaps a new message from Knave. Things weren't going great over there, but he hoped. "I know the answer already, but are you sure?"

Panthro replied with a string of profanities, indicating not only was he sure, but that he intended on doing grievous harm to Zanaya and whomever her telekinetic partner was. It didn't take him more than a second to figure out who the accomplice was, and after he'd given Mystan one more chance to prove himself. "I'm sorry about this. When Lion-O recovers we can discuss compensation. In the meantime, the culprits will be dealt with. Lunar justice can be harsh, and I've run out of patience."

Another list of threats was fired off, warning Tycho not to mess around or it would be his own posterior that was in the firing range. He ended the connection and gazed mournfully at Darius. Ever faithful Darius. "Assemble a team. Bring those three here at once."

* * *

The loyal companion to Lion-O watched over his ward as the latter lay convalescing on the bed. He looked so vulnerable. The poor boy was often in danger, but this seemed like the worst. He was a sickly green colour and hadn't moved since they'd brought him in. Getting food into him was difficult, because there was still the threat of the bacterium spreading to his caregiver. There was so much on the line, and precious little they could do.

Pumyra entered, carrying a small spray bottle which she used on the Lord of the Thundercats. He knew she had been couped up in that lab all afternoon working on the antidote, and he only hoped it would work. "How many times did you test it? Are there any side effects? What if it doesn't work?" he started, as she silenced him with a glare. He shut up. She was as worried as he was, and her reputation was at stake. If Lion-O got worse or died, it would be on her hands now. "I'm sorry. I just..."

"I know. We'll know soon enough if it works."

* * *

Much to Darius' surprise, neither Mystan nor Lura resisted as they was arrested. Mystan seemed to carry himself with an air of indifference, as though there was nothing that Tycho could do to him. It worried Darius, but he was grateful for the compliance nonetheless.

Zanaya's corpse was a bit of a shock, but still within the bounds of Mystan's jurisdiction. The laws were complicated, with Tycho in command, but others being able to carry out such punishments. It hadn't come up yet, but it was theoretically possible that one of the other moons could insist on policing their own. Only the Psions, he thought.

Tycho's door was unlocked when they got there and the pair were ushered in front of Tycho's desk, their hands bound behind their backs and weapons trained on them. The guards had their orders, kill at the first sign of telekinesis. Mystan was dangerous enough that he might have been able to take out all the guards before one got a shot off, but there was still a chance. Darius was the contingency plan. He could, as he had done before, protect the governor himself. Slowly he walked around the table and reported Zanaya's status.

"Why do I bother?" Tycho asked, half to himself. His voice was quiet, as it usually was, but Darius could hear the anger. "I give the three of you a second chance to prove yourselves, and you go and try and kill Knave again. The Thundercats are enraged. Cheetara has barely been saved from death, and who knows what other chaos you've caused."

"Cheetara's injury was not my fault. It was Zanaya who..." Mystan began.

"And I told you that you would be held accountable for her actions. So it might as well have been you that struck the blow. You violated my trust, and now I have to mete out justice."

Mystan snorted. "Do your worst. What the elders have in store is far graver than anything you might conjure. Because of my errant niece I am being stripped of all my abilities and being recalled back to the Psion moon. On the other hand, I should defend Lura in this matter. She was not involved. She's the one who warned Darius of Zanaya's previous attack on Knave, and she warned the Thundercats of this one."

All eyes fell on Lura. It was a half truth. "I followed my master's orders as best I could, but there were lines I felt uncomfortable with," she stammered.

"Fine. You can go. Mystan, I may not be able to do worse to you than what you claim your superiors plan, but I can do a fair amount. While the Psions hurt your mind, I will hurt your body. In three days the next shuttle arrives to return to the moons of Plundarr. You will be on it. In the meantime I am going to have you bound in front of the city. The public will know of your disgrace and can take whatever liberties they choose. I think I'll invite the Thundercats to come down too."

Anger flashed in the Psion's eyes, but he didn't say a word, as he allowed himself to be led from the room.

* * *

She felt relief, walking out of Tycho's office. Mystan had actually taken the proverbial bullet for her. She wasn't sure why, but she had sent a mental thanks to him. He was beaten, she knew, and for some reason had protected her. There was still one errand left to complete though, and that would be the trickiest of all. Lura had to speak to Knave.

* * *

There was equal relief in Cat's Lair. Pumyra was able to report that the green tinge in Lion-O's skin was fading, and that he seemed to be breathing normally. Coupled with Cheetara's stubborn recovery made the mood much lighter in Cat's Lair. She was even able to cope with having to eat in the same room as Knave that evening.

She wouldn't be able to stay much longer, though. The Tower of Omens was undermanned at present, with only Lynx-O, Bengali, and Snarfer there to take turns watching for danger, so she knew that she would have to take her leave shortly. Still, Lion-O's health was cause for celebration. Messages were sent to the nearby villages informing them of the good news, and Snarf found an excuse to start working on Lion-O's favourite breakfast. It seemed, at last, as though everything were finally getting back to normal.

* * *

Knave felt full from dinner. He'd even been able to crack a joke that made Wily Kat smile briefly, before the lad remembered that he didn't like him. There had been a slight incident during his feeding of Krystalin when she had accidentally frozen the bottle and his arm to her mouth, but these were some of the joys of parenthood.

He didn't really know what had happened. Icewalker children weren't normally able to use their abilities until much later in their adolescence, so it was highly unusual that Krystalin was doing such now. He laid down on the bed, with her pressed against his chest. It felt so right. How had he gone so long without a child of his own? He almost wanted more. A host of children whom he could love and raise the right way. He kissed that tiny forehead and marvelled at her.

"You look happy," Lura's voice said, somewhere in his head. Instinctively he looked around, but knew that telepaths didn't need to physically be near to use their powers. His guard went up, and Krystalin began crying at her father's tension. "It's alright. I need to talk to you, in person. I know you don't trust me, and I've never given you reason to."

Her statement was answered with a snort. He didn't trust her. She was Mystan and Zanaya's lap dog. She did whatever they wanted. "Actually, that's one of the reasons I want to talk to you. They have been punished for what they did. Zanaya is dead, and Mystan is being sent home. Actually, he's being put in front of New Lunis for public abuse and humiliation first. If you come see me, I can give you Zanaya's body and you can do what you will to him too. I know a little of Icewalker funeral customs and I can probably arrange to fulfil them."

Even through the distance, he could sense her fear, it was a tangible thing, as real as the babe at his side. It was the fear that suggested that she was being honest. "Tomorrow, then. I want to talk to my father anyway, and this is as good a chance as any. But if this is a trick..." he said.

"It's not. Tomorrow then."

There was silence for a few minutes and he wondered if she had truly left. He hadn't noticed her arrival after all, which was one reason why he hated telepaths.

* * *

He was floating through the darkness, being led onwards by a glimmering Eye of Thundera. He wasn't sure how long he had been within the oblivion, only that it had been awhile. His mind ached from trying to comprehend the void. Only the Eye mattered now, though. That shimmering jewel that had appeared moments ago. It seemed to beckon to the Lord of the Thundercats, imploring him to follow it. Lion-O wanted to obey, he had been away from his friends for too long, but what would he awaken to? The Mutants had been attacking. He had been hit, and then black. He shouldered the fear aside, and willed himself closer to the eye, diving through it with a roar.

* * *

The roar of the eye turned into the plaintive moan of Snarf. Lion-O had jerked upright, flinging his onetime nurse across the bed. The indignant moan turned into a cry of joy, as the little Snarf wrapped his arms as much as he could around Lion-O's mid-section. "You're awake!" he said. "Pumyra thought it might be this morning, but when you slept through breakfast I worried."

Lion-O couldn't help but chuckle. There wasn't a force in the world that would stop Snarf from worrying. At least he seemed to be safe within Cat's Lair. And he'd obviously missed at least two meals. Possibly more if the growling of his stomach was any indication. Maybe that hadn't been the roar of the Eye of Thundera then, he thought with a chuckle. "I've obviously missed a lot. Why don't you update me over lunch?"

* * *

"You're really going to do it?" Cheetara asked. She had recovered enough that she could walk about the Lair, though the fact that she was forbidden to go running was grating at her. So now she was seated in Knave's bedroom, watching as he put on his boots. He would be needing a new pair soon, she noted, as the soles were worn down. Mentally she made a note to visit the Wollo village to see about getting a new pair. After all the Thundercats had put him through, it was the least they could do.

"Absolutely. I owe Mystan for what he's done. And if there's proof that Zanaya's dead too, I want to know," he replied. Word had come in of Mystan's fall from grace, courtesy Tycho, and an invitation to join in the public humiliation. Zanaya's death had been mentioned in passing, something that didn't seem to surprise their houseguest. There was also something else there, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "You want me to give him one for you?"

"No thanks. It's not our way," she replied simply, though in truth it was a tempting prospect. To stand on the brink of death left one feeling little compassion, but it was against the code of Thundera. It was justice, she supposed, but not her version. Mystan was a dangerous individual, and provoking him could prove to be more hazardous than simple incarceration.

"It's too bad. For years our people have believed that seeing the consequences of defiance serves as a deterrent. Besides, this is just the tip of the iceberg. You heard Tycho, he'll be stripped of his powers. Think about it. That would be like you or I losing the use of our legs. There's nothing I can do to him that will be worse than that."

Cheetara shuddered at the comparison. Her current state was bad enough. Mystan would be going through hell soon. But for now he had access to his powers. He might just risk a final gambit when he saw the cause of his distress. Slowly walking over to him, she touched his shoulder. "Take care of yourself." She felt him imperceptibly lean into the touch and remembered the conversation they had been having before they were interrupted. Just another thing she would have to deal with when he got back.

"I have to go," he said, his eyes saying the same thing, "Tygra's taking me as far as the Tower of Omens. Pumyra doesn't sound too thrilled for the company." He shouldered Krystalin and followed Cheetara out of the room.

* * *

Mystan endured the physical torments. Rotten fruits from the cowards, open handed blows from the more daring. He memorized their faces, committing them to his brain for potential revenge. He chuckled wryly to himself at the thought, even as some celery bounced off his knee. It was revenge that had gotten him in this predicament in the first place. That was why he was chained spread eagled in the front of the city gates. Revenge. Failed revenge.

His only consolation was that he was not being punished alone. One subordinate lay dead and the other to be punished soon. The corpse lay where it had fallen, though he had little doubt that Lura had covered it with a sheet. Knave was being given permission to take as much of the body as he pleased, as long as the head remained intact for the trip back to the Psion Moon.

He wondered how the meeting would go. He had absolute faith that Lura would do as she had been told, she would bare her heart to Knave. But how would he react. He wouldn't trust her, obviously, would see it as a trick. But how deep would the wound of rejection bite? Would he kill Lura? It was a distinct possibility when it came to it.

A sharp cuff to the back of the head caught his attention, and he found himself staring Chilla in the face. He should have guessed that she would come to enjoy the sport. "You looked distracted, and I didn't think it was remorse," she hissed. The blow was probably less than what she wanted to do, the guards were present to ensure that he would survive. Her family, being as high ranked within the Icewalker society as they were, had long been a target for his moon. It had been her son, Nitro, who had been the catalyst for the mission to Third Earth. That same mission that had, through many twists and turns, brought him to this state.

"Oh, but it is remorse," he said, knowing his words would anger her. It delighted him to see her lose her temper. "Remorse that Zanaya never completed her jobs. Three members of House Iespyk should lie dead." She slapped him, but it was worth it. Soon, another would take her place.

* * *

It was gratifying to be out of the Thunderstrike. To say that Pumyra was not 'thrilled' was an understatement. She had, through the pod to pod intercom, made the suggestion three times that they should abandon Knave. Frankly, the whole situation mystified Tygra, and he was intent on learning the truth. Even as the hybrid sprinted towards the Forest of Mists, Tygra caught up to the young Puma and followed her inside.

She stopped outside her bedroom door and scowled slightly on seeing that he was still following. "Do you need anything else?" she asked at length.

"Yes. I need some answers. I don't mean to intrude on your personal life, but you've been more hostile than even Panthro towards Knave. Lion-O decided that we would take him in as a guest and, as our Lord, we have to respect his decision even if we don't like it. That's not how we treat guests."

Pumyra sighed and gestured for him to enter her room. The room was kept somewhat neat, though there were clothes scattered across one side of the room. He took a seat at her desk, shifting an empty bowl out of the way to rest his arm, while she settled on the bed. "You're right," she said. "Years before we left Thundera, my mother, sister and I were travelling in a spaceship. We were just about to reach the Thunderan system when we were boarded. I didn't know it at the time, but they were Lunataks. Icewalkers all of them. They caught my sister easily while my mother and I ran for the escape pod. They promised to let my sister go if my mother surrendered."

Even though Tygra could guess where the story was going, he didn't interrupt. He let her work through the pause. "They lied. As soon as my mother was within reach they grabbed her. They would have gotten me too, but I hit the launch button and was jettisoned towards Third Earth. I never saw either of them again. I guess," Pumyra paused again. "I guess when I see Knave, I see what might have happened to my family. Turned into slaves to those bastards. Made to sleep with whoever owned them or be eaten. I can't help but wonder if I have some half-siblings, or a niece." A shudder went up her spine, and Tygra could see Pumyra's sharp claws digging into the bed sheet, one that had similar marks on it.

"Thank you for trusting me. I'll keep it a secret, provided you try and control your emotions around him. Knave wasn't part of the raiding party. He's not to blame, and we're trying to change him." He wanted to go over to her, but sensed this was not the time.

"I think I'd like to be alone now," she whispered. Quietly he granted her request.

* * *

The miles vanished easily under his feet, as Knave ran through Dark Side. Krystalin was tucked tight against his chest, eyes clenched tight against the wind. Getting through the Forest of Mists had been a bit tricky, as it always was, but the rope he had installed long ago was still there, and it held.

It was strange to think about the whole situation. Here he was, living with the Thundercats and now heading to a city that was, technically, home. Neither group really wanted him, he knew. Nor had Zanaya. She had wooed him, captured his heart in the hopes of learning information. She had killed the chief of security on board the Excelsior for him, in the hopes of learning more. Both acts together had led to the vengeance of a goddess, springing a child on her. That same emotion led to her relentless pursuit of him, and finally death if Lura was to be believed. Death led to life, hate led to joy. It was the opposite of how his life had been up to this point. Could his life, the life of a father, start over now that she was dead?

The rocky terrain gave way to a forested region, telling him that he was getting closer to the city of New Lunis. He saw a lumber camp not too far ahead, working on making a proper road to the Forest of Mists, and stopped briefly to get an update.

* * *

Waiting was the worst of it. Lura stared around the room, the faint smell of Zanaya's body lingering in the air. She moved around the room, uncertain, going over in her head what she wanted to say. She couldn't use her powers, now more than ever. She didn't want to see the naked emotion when she told him. The revulsion, the lust perhaps? What would she find? Besides, if there was going to be any kind of relationship between them, and she wasn't certain she really wanted one, he couldn't suspect any kind of mental intrusion. That's the way Icewalkers were.

She lowered the thermostat again, trying to make him more comfortable when he got there. It would make him receptive, and keep the dead body cool. How much longer would it be? He knew where to go, didn't she? Mystan would tell him. The thought came so suddenly in her head that she wondered if her former master were projecting himself into it. Of course. Knave would come into the city through the main gates and find Mystan. He wouldn't be able to resist rubbing salt in the wounds. Mystan would direct him. Not for the first time, she prayed that everything would go okay.

* * *

"So here you are. They were telling the truth," Knave said, walking up to Mystan. The latter remained impassive. He knew that the most infuriating thing for the hybrid would be to get no reaction to his taunts. As long as it didn't provoke him enough to be thrown in jail himself. Lura was waiting, after all. "Disgraced. Do you smell that, it's a beautiful smell, the smell of victory."

To his annoyance, both father and child seemed healthy. Removing the mental block had certainly caused havoc, but not nearly as much as he had been hoping. "Nothing to say, then?" Knave asked. He gently placed a hand on Mystan's cheek and drew one sharp fingernail down the jaw and across the throat. It didn't draw blood, but a little more pressure would have done so.

"I have no need to speak with you," Mystan replied, as though it didn't phase him at all. It did, though. It vexed him greatly that he couldn't afford to risk attacking Knave here and now. He was given an edict by the high priests, and one did not disobey the high priests. Which reminded him of Lura once more. "Run along. Lura is waiting for you in my home. You know the place."

Knave grinned widely and took a step back, then he began to laugh as Krystalin screwed up her face and belched a thin mist of ice at her mother's uncle. The tiny crystals stung as they bounced off his chest. Then both disappeared around him into the city. A lumbering Graviton approached next, carrying a mug of putrid ale. This was going to be a long few days.

* * *

Standing nearby, disguised as a common guard, Darius breathed a sigh of relief. In communication with Cat's Lair he had learned that Knave intended on coming into the city; both to see Mystan and to collect Zanaya's body. He had feared the inevitable confrontation, uncertain as to whether either man would remain civil enough. But it had gone amicably well. Quietly slipping away, he confirmed that there would be a transport available if Knave needed assistance getting the corpse home.

* * *

Knave had been to Mystan's home more than once, but never had he been invited. He chuckled at the thought. Only a few days ago he had snuck in to steal Krystalin, and now he had her. More accurately, at the moment, Nitro and his girls had her. Knave wasn't sure what would await him on the other side of the door, whether it would be one last trap set by the treacherous Psions. If it was, he didn't want his baby caught in the crossfire.

He knocked on the door and scented the air. There was an unmistakable tang in the air. Death mingled with Zanaya's natural odour. When the door hissed open he saw Lura, a fearful Lura if her body language was anything to go by. She stepped aside and he walked into the room. There had been a struggle here. The couch looked as though it had seen better days, and there was blood caked on the floor, just barely covered by a sheet. His eyes flicked from the sheet to Lura. She looked away briefly. "That's her. I was going to remove the head first, but I thought I should wait. I'll give you a minute. See me before you go, please." Lura walked quickly into Zanaya's room.

Here it was. The moment of truth. His senses told him that this was her, that Zanaya was indeed a corpse, but his eyes yearned to see it. He pulled the sheet aside, seeing first the pained expression. Her hands clasped firmly over her heart, mouth wide. The blood wasn't hers, then. He crouched low and sniffed. It smelled vaguely of another Psion he'd encountered, whose name he couldn't quite remember. Good then. Most Psions were bastards and deserved death anyway.

He regarded Zanaya again, searching his soul to see if there was anything left of the love he'd once had for her. There was the physical lust, certainly, but the more emotional level? Perhaps a glimmer. A small sense of pity that if she had been raised differently then perhaps she might have. It was their common bond that he'd fallen for. A pair of trained killers who lived on the edge of society. She'd been able to slip back in when it suited her, he couldn't. His cheetah fur would forever mark him as 'outsider.' He stared at the face, the cyan markings crossing her pale purple flesh. She'd been in agony in her last moments. Begging for mercy. He wondered what had happened. How she had died. Only one person might answer that.

Quietly he padded to the bedroom door. Zanaya's scent lay heaviest in this room, which wasn't surprising. Lura was seated on the bed. The covers were rumpled, as though Zanaya had barely just gotten up. The Psion woman looked up at his entrance, and hastily put down a book she'd been reading. "How did it happen?" he asked, simply.

Something flickered on her face, a painful memory from the looks of it. "Mystan did it. The high priests were unhappy with us. You already know his punishment, but they ordered him to kill either Zanaya or I. He chose her." Knave's eyes widened in disbelief. Such was the culture of the Icewalkers, that choosing anyone over family was unfathomable. "She thought the way you do. Until he began crushing her heart. It was agony. She screamed. I can still hear it when I close my eyes. I don't know how long it lasted. I touched her mind and caught the echo of her pain."

So that was it. She had stared into the abyss of death and had survived. Mystan could have easily chosen her for the grisly fate, but he hadn't. And then a thought occurred to him. Lura had always been with someone else. Now she was alone, no mentor, no friends. He wondered if she'd even had time to make friends outside her duties. "Why? Why spare you and not her?" he asked.

The scent of fear grew, and she lowered her head, fixated on her hands. He had come to the heart of her nervousness. It wasn't just her being alone that scared her, but something in particular about that question. "He said it's because we failed him emotionally. Zanaya couldn't control her hatred for you, I couldn't control my love for you."

He hadn't expected the words, and he stifled a bitter laugh in his throat. "Love? For me?" It sounded like a practical joke. Any moment now, he expected her to burst out laughing at the very concept.

"It's true. At first it was pity, I admit, but then I got to know you. Remember when we first met? I read your mind. I saw your past. I saw the man you could be. All your life you've been falsely loved and I thought that all you needed in life was someone to say they care about you. It tears at me to know what Zanaya did to you, even what Chilla did to you. I've seen how you look at Krystalin. She looks at you with love in her eyes; she worships you."

"You're lying." The way her head snapped up, tears streaming down her face, told him she wasn't. But he continued anyway. "Mystan has tried so many ways to get at me, get at my daughter. Now this, he's sending you to get at me."

"I'm not. Look into your soul. Three times I've saved you. That first time we met, Mystan wanted you dead and I sent you away to protect you. I sent Darius to try and stop Zanaya and then..." Lura said, standing now.

"That was your voice I heard in my head." The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. She had called his name, alerting him to Zanaya's presence in Cat's Lair. The memory clicked into place. She nodded feebly. "You know it would never work. I distrust Psions as much as your people hate Icewalkers."

"We could try and make it work," she stammered.

"I'm already trying to unite Lunataks and Thunderians," he said. His mind flashed to a different uniting between Lunatak and Thunderian. Cheetara. He had confessed his love to her, and she had rejected him. Just like every other woman. Only two women had ever shared his bed. One had been using him, and the other had been sent to him by his father. Panthra had upset her master and been sent as punishment to sleep with Knave.

But now there was one who was willing, perhaps. He just needed a little more proof. She was a Psion, and all his upbringing and experiences said they couldn't be trusted. It must have been evident on his face. "I can prove my words, if you'll let me," she said. He cocked his head to the side. "I can open my mind to you. Let you see whatever you want to see, and you'll learn that I have no ulterior motives. Don't worry, I won't be in your mind at all."

He stared at her. The offer didn't mean much to him. He didn't know a lot about telepathy, but assumed that they had ways of showing false information. He breathed deep, focussing his thoughts, weighing his options. He glanced outside the door and saw Zanaya still laying there, his last experience with a Psion. Then he looked again at Lura. She was reasonably attractive, he supposed. She was fit, if a little lean. And he sensed a genuine compassion. "There's another way you can prove yourself," he said, stepping closer to her. "As I told her, I've always found death to be as arousing as love. Being here, in a dead woman's room turns me on." One hand took her head, pulling her down for a kiss. It was a powerful, lustful kiss, that turned her knees to jelly.

Lura pulled out of his grip. "That's not what every girl wants to hear." She was wrestling with something inside, her own desires he gauged. "Look, if that's what you want then... okay. But under my terms. I'm not just going to be the woman you sleep with, I want a deeper relationship. Down the road, maybe we'll have kids of our own, a proper family. I want love, not lust. And, I've heard the stories, I want a gentle lover, not an animal. If that's not you then take Zanaya's body and go."

She bit her lip and turned from him. Knave wasn't sure what to do. An Icewalker didn't make promises they wouldn't keep. So what did he want? Did he want a family? Did he want to lead the life that she wanted him to lead? Was he willing to change for her? The realization that he might actually have found someone that loved him and he was pushing them away came to him. She was right about that. All his life he had been rejected by the people he loved, and now here it was. A chance.

Reminding himself that she had asked for gentle, he turned her around. "I can't promise you much. I don't believe this will work in the end, but I'm willing to try." It seemed to be enough. Lura smiled warmly, relief washing over her, as she let herself be backed towards the bed.

* * *

Noon was slowly turning into dusk. Mystan's captors finally unbound him and led him to his cell. As he walked, he wondered how his former student had done and sent his mind towards his home. By now, he assumed, she should be devastated at the rejection.

He found her easily enough. She was sore and a little upset. Mostly he saw confusion in her mind. Knave was gone, having taken some of the corpse with him, an arm from the looks of it. Lura was laying flat on Zanaya's bed, still undressed. This alone surprised him. She opened her eyes, aware of his presence and letting him see what he wanted. It was a bit of a gift, one of the last times he would be able to do so for a long time. Despite her urging to be gentle, the two had very different definitions of the word. He had, mercifully perhaps, drawn blood once along the side of her left breast. There had been no climax for her, but there was hope for the future. "He tried. I think he'll do better next time," was the message he got. Whether that was true or not remained to be seen. He did note that she was unhappy that he had felt it necessary to warn her what would happen if it was a trick.

Curious. Mystan had fully expected a failure here too. Perhaps not, as it turned out. Perhaps his own fall from grace and Zanaya's demise had actually helped. He wished her luck, a sincere hope, and slipped back into his own body. The guards around him didn't seem to have noticed his departure.

* * *

"What are you doing with my cooking pot? Do you need any help?" Snarf asked, balancing on his tail, and trying to see what Knave was doing in the kitchen. He had arrived back at the Lair later than expected, dropped off by a Lunatak shuttle. The mere arrival had sent the Thundercats into a flurry of activity until they realized they weren't under attack.

"Where would I find nutmeg?" the Icewalker/Cheetah asked, firmly holding the lid in place.

"This cupboard. It smells good, what are you making?" Snarf chirped, running off to fetch the spice from its shelf. Knave sprinkled a little into the pot and breathed the aroma. It did smell good. The Thundercats so rarely had meat in the Lair, that he had started to miss it. Still, he didn't think that it would do for them to know what he was cooking.

"It's an old family recipe. No, you don't get any." He turned around to see how Krystalin was doing, sitting happily in a high chair. She giggled, though he suspected it was just gas. He placed a towel in front of her mouth as she burped again.

He whirled around in time to see Snarf lifting the lid and peering inside. "Is... Is that an arm? Lion-O!" A streak of red and yellow fur bolted from the room. Knave replaced the lid, knowing that he would have to explain Icewalker funeral customs soon, and probably buy Snarf a new cooking pot.


	5. Chapter 5

Truth, Justice, Honour and Loyalty by Jonathan J. Prideaux  
Epilogue

Cat's Lair was now, more or less, quiet. While there had been a lot of fuss from the Thundercats, they had finally relented and agreed to let him finish his cooking. Knave chuckled quietly at the memory, as he ate in the solitude of his bedroom. The Thunderkittens had been kept out, though he could hear their protesting from down the hall. Panthro had threatened to throw him in the pot, while Lion-O grudgingly had to admit that the Thundercats respected the cultures and beliefs of all. It was far from an amicable solution, but it was the one they had.

He chewed a piece of meat from his stew, savouring the taste of it. There had been a time when the taste of Zanaya on his lips had been delightful, he was happy to experience it one more time. According to Icewalker tradition, eating the flesh of a loved one was supposed to bring one closer to them. In actuality, the custom had started due to a lack of food on the Ice Moon and continued on after that. Carefully, he spooned a bit of broth for Krystalin and she ate happily. There was no way for her to know the truth, but he did. That's all that counted.

As Knave placed his bowl on his desk he stared at the new addition to the collection of trophies. A single hand, the bones long and a dirty white. He would need to do some more work to it, to preserve it for time to come, and work on a plaque to mark it for the future. "Zanaya," he thought, licking the spoon and putting it next to the bowl. "You meant a lot to me. We loved, we fought. I honour your memory and pledge never to forget you. I can't forget you, you blessed me with the most precious gift of all. Ironic, that an assassin's greatest gift be life." He touched the hand, and scooped up Krystalin to put her to bed.

While he tucked his daughter in, Knave thought about the other Psion in his life now. Lura. Their lovemaking had been adequate. Her demands for gentle had been grating, and he would see how it worked out in the long run. Still, the news had to gall Mystan, and it would infuriate Zanaya if she were still alive. That plus the love she felt made it worthwhile to give it a chance. He curled up and dreamed pleasantly of the future.

* * *

Elsewhere, Chilla sat at her computer console. Not many of the Lunataks had access to a terminal yet, though it was one of the projects that Tycho was working on. At present, she knew, there was a public section, while the higher ups were granted their own. Chilla was one of those. She, along with the rest of Luna's original crew, sat on the council as advisors to Governor Tycho. In addition to them, an extra delegate representing each of the moons was chosen. Paeder and Stalker, military specialists, Soot Foot a Graviton who operated a brewery had a closer ear to the ground, while Mystan had been a spiritual source.

Chilla wondered, skimming a report on her family home on the Ice Moon, who would replace him. Once her reading was done, she requested any information the people back home could get her on whomever it was. The Icewalkers weren't good at spying, but they did have a small underground network.

The next message flashed across her screen. A video report from a distant relation. Icewalker genealogy was complicated and it hurt to think about, he was a cousin some number of times removed. "Chilla. I'm not sure what to make of it, but there's word from the Royal capital. A number of mixed race Lunataks are disappearing. I didn't think anything of it, damn bastards, but someone broke into our home. Knave's room was torn apart and marked with a strange emblem. 'MP' it says. It fits with the reports from the royals. You've always said that an attack on one is an attack on the whole family. I await your response while we increase our security."

She cursed silently, staring at the screen. He was absolutely right. There was no way they could let such a challenge go unpunished. Chilla turned off the computer. While she might not be able to travel to the Ice Moon herself, in her role as advisor, a high ranking member of House Iespyk was needed there, and she had an idea who.

* * *

How the mighty had fallen, and yet Mystan knew he couldn't afford to waste a moment in regaining his standing. He would learn from his mistakes. He would grow and earn his way back into the favour of the other high priests, and be rewarded with his old position and power. He had done it once before, starting as an acolyte himself, learning from the best as though knowledge were water and he were a sponge. Yes. Already the inklings of a murky plan were forming.

What the Psions desired most was the throne. They didn't want to sit on the throne itself, that would invite others to seek their place, they merely desired to control it. Aristarchus had been their man. It had Mystan who had helped him manoeuvre him into position, coddling and hinting at potential glory. When Mystan had been taken away from him, however, he had gone mad and earned himself a spot on the Control Force's prison planet. Tycho required a different tactic. He was cunning, and saw through the manipulations. Mystan hadn't learned the rules to that game quick enough, but Tycho was not the man on the throne. He had relinquished his right. If Luna died, the throne would pass over him, would pass over Aristarchus too, which meant figuring out who was next in line. He thought he knew who that might be.

But there was another way. If Luna could not be swayed directly, perhaps her heir might. Already rumour was floating that she sought a biological mate to strengthen her rule. If the Psions could find the right mate, someone dim enough who could be controlled. Or perhaps both problems were one in the same. He would do his research, present his ideas, and be back on top in no time.

Mystan scowled as he was jostled. He had been loaded on to a small transport craft for the week long voyage, and placed in a secure cell in the hold. He looked to see what had distracted him and saw Nitro and his pair of women approaching. He knew the Darkling was Nuiane, she had helped Aristarchus on occasion, a spy within Nitro's organization, while the other was a hefty Graviton creatively named Gravica. "It's nice to see there's some justice in the empire," Nitro said, arm around each woman's waist. "I'll be joining you on this trip to the Psion Moon. It's just too bad I won't get to watch your punishment."

"If there is justice here, you'll be pushed out an airlock," Mystan replied calmly. Though there wasn't much in the hold he still had access to his telekinesis and shifted a crate purposefully. It reminded Nitro that such an act could be carried out by him, even from within the cell.

Sadly, if he was expecting fear from the Icewalker he didn't get it, though the women did react. "Enjoy it while you can. Soon the only way you'll be able to move anything is with your pathetic muscles. Come on ladies, let's find our room and break it in." Mystan watched Nitro leave and cursed all members of House Iespyk. Once the throne was where it belonged, he would have his enemies destroyed.


End file.
